


These Golden Walls That Divide Us

by EmerialynCodeVenice



Series: Djinn Dirk AU [12]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Albino Karkat Vantas, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All The Romantic Miscommunications, Alternate Universe - Derse/Prospit Royalty, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But Jake Not Letting Dirk Go This Time, Can be read alone, Cult references, Depression, Dirk Left Jake, Dirk is BEST Big Brother, Djinn Dirk Sequel, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Get Ready For A Rollercoaster Of Feels, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Karkat And Kanaya Have Difficult Lovers, M/M, Modern Alternate Universe - Humanstuck, Near Death Experiences, Past Child Abuse, Questionable Family Bonding Activities, Recovering/Traumatized Spirit Dirk, Reincarnation, Something Is Trying To Kill Them, Strilonde Family Feels, Strilondes Are Crazy, Unnatural Weather Disasters, but doesn't know it, magical powers, someone help these poor children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmerialynCodeVenice/pseuds/EmerialynCodeVenice
Summary: Since he left Jake one year ago, Dirk has been lost. After all, it’s not easy wandering around homeless… especially when you’re a former enslaved spirit who is haunted by the memories of his kingdom and family all being destroyed. Or… were they?With events in the present bearing dark similarities to the tragedy of Derse thousands of years ago, Dirk realizes that time is running out. He needs to find his reincarnated siblings, relearn his powers, and discover the secrets his lost memories may hold before whatever force out there succeeds in killing them.He can't fail. But to win... he'll need hope.





	1. Diamond In The Rough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The official chapter-sequel of the Djinn Dirk AU Oneshot Series is finally here!!! I originally planned to just make a bunch of short, slightly related one-shots, but, as usual, I got ideas for full-length chapters. This CAN BE READ ALONE (all will be explained, but reading the one-shots DEFINITELY helps and adds to the experience).
> 
> I still plan to write more one-shots of Dirk and Jake’s year together (all the shenanigans), but now that I’m doing this one, those updates will be far more sporadic. As always, I’m open to said one-shot ideas! I’ve got a few, but inspiration is always appreciated!
> 
> Please leave Kudos and Comments to tell me what you think! I have a lot of plans and hope to do updates every Saturday (at least for the first few chapters), but admittedly college life is busy, so knowing that anyone cares is nice.

So… this is how it ends.

Bruised face, multiple cracked ribs and bones, laying against a brick wall and freezing to death in some random alley in the middle of what should be spring, and on the edge of starvation… it was almost ironic that, two years ago, such an ending would have been impossible. Well, you apparently were close friends with the impossible— _and irony—_ so a part of you wasn’t _that_ surprised that this is how it would all end for you.

Wincing— _some piece of metal from the garbage can beside you was digging into your back; your aching ribs—_ you tried to adjust against the unforgiving brick walls before giving it up as a lost cause. You had barely been able to crawl here as it was— _you were lucky as it was that those drunk assholes who had attacked you outside of the bar had lost sight of you—_ and any further movement only caused _sharp_ pain to ache at every part of you.

You cough—a disgusting, wet sound, and shiver violently, goosebumps having already littered your arms since you had left the bar. Not only were you only in a white t-shirt and— _fitting, but thin—_ black jeans, but, _somehow_ , it was below _freezing_ outside. With your luck, it’d probably even start to _snow_.

Some might ask why that was such an odd thing, but, well, _it was the beginning of **March**. _

Yeah, _March_. As in _spring_? Now, if you were in Antartica or something, you’d expect snow even during spring, but given that you were in _Houston, Texas_ —there really shouldn’t be any for a thousand-mile radius. Yet… there was.

You really didn’t understand it yourself, but apparently there had been some sort of freakish weather happening all around the globe for the past… year or so? Not like you would have known better— _having been what basically amounted to an imprisoned spirit for the last thousands of years in an underground cavern—_ but from what you heard from the weather channel and Jak—

Your fists tighten— _you regret it; the skin of your knuckles stretch painfully, covered in blood and bruises from defending yourself against five guys—_ as your heart skips a beat. No. _No._ You don’t think that name anymore. There was no point to it. It only made your soul ache and your heart wish _desperately_ for just one more… _No!_

You had _made_ your choice—and, even now, you knew you were right in making it. Even if it was painful. Even if you didn’t get to see his face one last time. Even if meant that you had just _left him—_

_CRASH_

You jolt— _it’s **really** painful—_ head jerking to the left. Vision blurs and you inhale deeply, trying— _and failing—_ to breathe evenly, avoiding the urge throw up what little you’ve eaten in the past week, as you watch what looks like a cat scramble down the alley through watery eyes.

With a groan, you set your head back against the brick, willing the cold, unforgiving stone to provide some relief to your aching head, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Surprising enough, it doesn’t work worth squat.

It’s irrational, how jumpy you are. But you couldn’t help it. While you were probably justified now, having been randomly attacked by drunks without even saying a _word_ — _ironic or otherwise—_ to them, you had been feeling unusually paranoid for a while now. Of course, it could be the fact that you still weren’t adjusted to the modern era— _two years wandering around does not make a former spirit an expert—_ but you didn’t think so.

Of course… the paranoia could be because of _that_.

Wrenching your eyes open— _when had they closed? That wasn’t good, you weren’t supposed to sleep with a concussion, or in the middle of winter which wasn’t winter since it was spring—_ your gaze flickers down to your hand.

Wiggling your fingers, you concentrate and spread your fingers out, not pushing enough to bring that humming _energy_ to the surface, but enough to just _feel_ it along your pulse. From there, you close your eyes again— _feeling a bit ridiculous since you had just gone through the effort of opening them… and it was definitely effort in your condition—_ and just _breathe_.

Using your hand as a guide for your mind, you tilt your hand to the right and your senses of being just _flows_ in that direction.

_You can feel…_

_…there was a woman, in that café over there. She is currently waiting for her closest friend, excitedly bouncing up and down. Her **heart** was like that of… a ferocious, but playful, lion. The bond was strong, warm, and seemed to be a mix of an olive green and indigo blue color… _

_…there was a young man crossing the road a street away. He felt… nervous. Not a type of nervous that came from being pursued or in danger, but a type of normal, everyday anxiety. It seems that he felt like he could never catch his **breath** … He did, however, have a few strong bonds linked to his bronze-colored soul. He seemed very nice… with more potential than he gave himself credit for…_

_...there was an angry cobalt-colored (or was it cerulean?) soul over there in some random building. Definitely someone with issues, who generally took it out aggressively and with ill-intent, preferring to steal whatever **light** she could find her life without taking the necessary responsibility. She, too, had soul-bonds, but they seemed to be fraying by her own hand—_

You gasp, eyes opening as you weakly recall your senses back to your body, instantly regretting your actions are you’re hit with a dizzying wave of vertigo. You groan, regretting everything and more.

How could you be so _stupid_? _That_ , the use of your powers, was what had gotten you in trouble in the first place! You had been looking at the souls around you in the bar— _for less than… legitimate reasons—_ and, as a result, had been too distracted or weak to react when you felt angry souls coming your way. Before you knew it, they had been dragging you out and it had been a nearly one-sided beat down that led to your current circumstances.

Still, you sigh in regret. You somewhat remember— _thousands of years ago—_ that you used to be able to do this— _your powers—_ without needing to concentrate at all, but things, understandably, changed when you went through the things you did. The fact that you had any comparing of your powers _at all_ was baffling and strange.

Apparently, in the modern era, no one had access to their classes or aspects (nonetheless the combined form of a ‘classpect’) anymore. Of course, you could still _feel_ that people had classes or aspects— _it was easier with stronger souls, like you could tell that the excited girl from before had the aspect of Heart like you—_ but it was like looking through a rusted mirror or soapy water, things weren’t always _clear_ … Almost like people had lost the ability to bring out their true potential.

Of course, you knew very well that people of this era doubted the existence of Magic and everything involved with it. The Cavern of Hearts, as far as you could tell during your… travels, had been one of the last places— _prisons—_ with a link to the supernatural world that had been in full force during your first life.

It… made you feel even more alone than you thought possible.

Once, you had been called the _Prince of Heart._ The reason was because you, loosely-described, had the ability to see hearts— _it was more accurate to call them ‘souls’ but the name stuck—_ and the bonds that connect people to one another.

You also… had the ability to _destroy_ those bonds. It kind of sickened you— _had unsettled you even back then—_ but it _had_ been useful every now and then. It certainly had saved your life when you had managed to run away from those drunks and, while hiding, _destroyed_ the bonds of anger that had connected you to them. It had made them give up— _probably even wondering why they had attacked you in the first place… though you wondered that too—_ and leave without much of a fuss.

But, as a result, you were weaker than ever. It was like using a muscle that had atrophied for centuries— _technically even longer; **much** longer—_ and, even with having discovered it inside you a month ago, it was _exhausting_ to use it at all. Though, that was probably because you were also less than… emotionally stable— _something very necessary for using your aspect, but even **more** so when it’s Heart. _

But you, as you did with everything that pained you, ignored that glaring fact and forced things to work out anyway… or as much as they could at this point.

A cold wind blows through the alley and you stare at the darkening sky, watching the clouds becoming heavier and heavier. Then, before your eyes, they seem to shift, becoming an even deeper grey, and, against all logic, it begins to actually _snow_.

Again, this was _March_.

So.

_What. The. Fuck?_

Despite starting less than a _second_ ago, snow begins to fall down _heavily_ in large flurries from the sky and the wind equally picks up at a violent speed. The loose garbage cans _rattle_ against the wall and people in the streets beside you pick up their pace— _while also muttering their confusion; believe you, you get it—_ as they head to wherever the hell they were going in the first place.

None look at you, as if you had reverted back to a spirit-like state.  

Though, why _would_ they look at you? You know what you look like. A bruised face covered in black shades despite the weather, a dirty, blood-speckled shirt, worn, ripped jeans… yeah, you wouldn’t stop to look at the beat-up hobo either.

Except, maybe to gawk. Perhaps that angry girl would stop for a moment if she passed by. When you got a look at her soul, she seemed to be the type to enjoy the misery of others… and you doubted there were many around that were as miserable as you were right now. _Of course, it was completely possible that you were just being self-centered… but at least no one else was visibly dying like you were at the moment._

You shiver, your limbs _numb_ and _literally_ _freezing_ now, as your stomach flip-flops. You sniffle, grimacing as something wet trails down from your nostril to your lip. Whether it was blood or snot, it hardly matters. It was disgusting. But, again, a fitting way for something as pathetic as you to die.

For whatever horrible reason, you try to remember the Cavern of Hearts, the place of your imprisonment for _so_ long, and find that you have no problem seeing it in your mind’s eye. Though that’s not much of a surprise. After all, you had spent days, nights, _years_ sleeping upon those piles of gold, sorting through the random treasures, throwing yourself into the traps but never being able to experience release, staring at the mirror and wondering… always wondering if any part of you could be considered _alive_ …

A strange warmth fills you, a smile tugging at your lips despite your misery as you remember what had happened _next_. It was then, after you had _long_ lost hope, that everything had changed.

That _it_ happened.

Or, rather, _him._

When you had least expected it, you were _freed_ from your eternal isolation and allowed to enter the real world once again. Though everything had rapidly changed, had been so confusing and, admittedly, terrifying as hell, it had been _amazing_. You had finally been _living_. Experiencing things you never expected or even thought to experience. Doing things you had never done, even from what you could remember when you had been alive the first time.

And, while it hadn’t been perfect— _the ache of all the things you had lost before your imprisonment always there and fractured memories that haunted you—_ it had been _good_.

… _Jake_ had been good.

More than good, if you were honest… but that was never something you would classify yourself as. Or, rather, you were brutally honest when it was far too late for it to be any good.

You swallow, your throat dry and scratchy— _it had been a while since you had a decent meal, having been paranoid to truly approach someone since the return of your abilities—_ and wish, pathetically, that everything hadn’t changed.

You know you were the one at fault, and had no reason to think the way you do— _it was the reason you left, the reason you just left him a fucking **note** —_but you couldn’t help but wish to be with him again. To travel around the world at his side, have him care for you, to protect you from ignorance and insecurities both, to answer your every stupid question, to… to have him look at you with that bright, goofy smile…

…but wishes were for _chumps_. Or, at the very least, not for you. _Anyone_ but you, really. For fuck’s sake, you had basically been a ‘ _genie’—you liked the word ‘djinn,’ better, if you were to be honest, but the connotation wasn’t exactly correct—_ so that meant that you granted the wishes of everyone _else_ and **_never_** yourself.

And, even then, you had screwed up.

Jake had freed you, had made you his... his…— _you can’t say the word, it’s too painful—_ and, in the end, you had been able to do nothing for him. You had only made his life worse and even kept him from his true happiness. _Nothing_ good had come out of your involvement with him— _at least for him—_ and, to be frank, that wasn’t a damn bit surprising. You really should come with a sign saying, ‘ _Do Not Involve With—Will Ruin Your Life’_ in bright, neon orange letters so everyone could see. It didn’t matter what time period or who— _everyone_ who had ever associated with you had regretted it. _Everyone_ had suffered for it…

_Especially… **them**._

Your breath comes out in misty pants now, snow layering itself upon your pants and shirt since you hadn’t moved an inch. The streets stood still and empty, everyone having cleared out with the sudden blizzard, and you were left alone with your own thoughts.

You knew you were going to die, it was only a matter of time.

Actually, it was probably only a matter of you closing your eyes and drifting to sleep— _hopefully, this one wouldn’t end up with you waking up in the Cavern of Hearts and realizing it was all just a dream—_ but, still, you delayed. Whether it was cowardice or something else, you didn’t know.

It was probably the former. You definitely belonged in hell, or whatever truly waited those who had irreversibly fucked up in life went after death, but, on the off chance there was some sort of neutral world… you were worried that you would meet _them_.

 _Them_ as in… your siblings.

Your younger sisters and brother.

It was too much to think their names— _and how painful it had been when, after traveling with Jake for a few months, you finally dreamed up a memory and recalled how you had forgotten everything about them—_ but outlines of their faces alit in your mind. Haunting you— _taunting_ you.

You wondered, if you closed your eyes one more time, if their faces would be the next thing you saw. You wondered if they would be mad, _furious_ at how you had failed them and led them, and your kingdom, to _ruin_. Or, maybe, they had forgiven you after thousands of years and were waiting to welcome you with open arms…

_…you weren’t sure what would be worse._

After all, there was the fact that you still, even after two years, couldn’t recall everything that had happened before being trapped in the Cavern of Hearts. Especially everything that had happened near the end— _not even that much, since you can’t even remember what had caused everything to go wrong in the first place, only that it had been some sort of **monster—**_ but you _knew_ that you had messed up. That something about _you_ had caused their deaths and your being imprisoned, but you don’t know _what_. Or much of any of the events surrounding it.

It was like trying to catch smoke, knowing it was there, but unable to _grasp_ it.

And, as much as it haunted you, you were just as fearful, perhaps even more, about what you would learn if you _did_ find out. This lack of knowledge killed you… but would gaining that knowledge completely _destroy_ you?

You try wiggling your fingers, but you can no longer feel them. They might as well had been unattached to your body, fucking frozen tater tots, that you only knew, logically, should be connected to your hand.

Everything was hazy, even though you know your eyes are open with snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes and cheeks, and you can literally feel your limbs turning blue. _Deliriously_ , you wonder if you’d be more attractive to Jake like this… he was probably still obsessed with blue ladies… though the whole ‘ _man’_ thing would likely have him turn up his nose.

Suddenly, a part of you— _something **inside** —_seemed to flicker, _leaned_ to the right towards the street where there was no one, not even cars, as the blizzard raged. As if there was something _there_ that something inside you was reaching out to…

You would wonder why your abilities were reacting, but you find that being at death’s door makes you _not give a shit_ about anything. _Besides your many, many, many regrets that is._ But those had kept you entertained for thousands of years, so you doubt that they wouldn’t even in your last moments of life.

_Crunch_

You don’t move from your place against the brick wall, though you could _swear_ you had heard something from… somewhere. It was difficult. _Thoughts_ were _difficult…_

_“…shit, dud— …okay?”_

_…when had your eyes closed again?_

_…whatever, it didn’t matter. You were probably just imagining things…_

**Tug**

_Like that tug… it was probably nothing._

_You felt tingly all over, as if your limbs were on fire—_ which wasn’t possible, you were freezing to death; dying was messing with you— _and you almost feel like you’re moving somewhere given the increasing ache in your ribs._

_“—bullshit …snow…  March—”_

_Me too, you want to say, even though you’re not sure what you’re saying in the first place._

_What… where were you again?_

_Where’s… where’s Jake?_

_Weren’t you… weren’t you with Jake?_

_Wait, no… you’re not with Jake… not anymore…_

_No… he’s with…_

_“—shit, hold on man, hold on Bro—”_

_…Bro?_

_You’re no one’s… Bro. You’re nobody. Nothing. Something that should have died thousands of years ago at best._

_No one cared that you were dying and honestly no one should._

_You had no place, no one._

_Nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should reiterate that this takes place two years after The Greatest of Treasures, the first one-shot of the Djinn Dirk AU Series where Dirk, an imprisoned spirit with amnesia, was freed from the Cavern of Hearts by the Adventurer Jake English. Since then, he spent one fulfilling and interesting year with Jake before parting on… less than favorable terms and spending a less than enjoyable year on his own. And, since then, he has regained some of his memories of his past life as well as parts of his powers (don’t worry, it’ll all be explained as the chapters to come).
> 
> As said before, I’m more than open (in fact I welcome) ideas about Jake and Dirk’s year together and will continue to write one-shots of it while updating this story, but it will be sporadic at best.
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you’re thinking! I’m excited for this one, I got fun plans and a whole lot of suffering and fluff for my characters hehehehe…


	2. Ruby Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Chapter 2 of These Golden Walls That Divide Us! This chapter was written ahead of time, but I generally go over to loosely edit these before posting—didn’t have much time to do so this week.
> 
> This week is a beast with six days of class and over fifty pages of homework a day for one of my classes. Yeah, it’s a busy time… 
> 
> Regardless, please enjoy and tell me what you think! I love feedback and comments about various ideas or thoughts! 
> 
> I know it seems like it’s starting out pretty slow, but don’t worry. It’ll be picking up in a few chapters! Everyone is free to theorize about the little hints that I leave here and there throughout the chapter! See how many you can find!

_—you’re burning alive, your lungs engulfed with flames as you tried to breathe. But every breath you took only fanned the fire, bringing it higher and higher—_

_“—whoa … really hot… — eed water, right? …on’t worry, I... all doc—”_

_You’re boiling, but it’s contrasts now with what feels like cool water running down your face, caressing you’re the raging inferno as if you had just been submerged in a cool stream…_

_You fall back to sleep._

_o0o0o_

_—urts. Please, someone, help. It hurts, it feels like something is **consuming** you from the inside. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, rattling you from the inside out. Bugs crawling up and down your skin, biting and— _

_“—treat a seizure!? …orry, I got… ou—”_

_Where was Jake? You wanted Jake. You’re sorry, you’re so, so, so sorry…_

_Please, Jake, make it stop…_

_“…ho’s Jake? …rouble… —swear I didn’t kidnap—”_

**_Jake_ ** _…_

_You fall asleep._

_o0o0o_

_“—hit, how long… storm… trapped here…”_

_Something inside of you **triggered**. What parts of you that were aware panicked. Trapped? There was only one place that was ‘trapped.’ The Cavern of Hearts. No, no, nonononono, you don’t want to go back, please, no, **Jake** — _

_“—uck, not again… —lease, please, I’m really trying here… Er, …me try… in movies…”_

_Suddenly, you feel something smoothing down your hair. Long, soothing strokes…_

_You relax, calming immediately. It… it had to be Jake, right? If Jake was here… you’re safe, right? There was something… odd about the fingers, how they felt thinner and more awkward for whatever reason, but it had to be Jake… there was no one else who cared…_

_“—weet, …working… it’s alright… Bro…”_

_You fall asleep._

o0o0o

This time, when you awake, you feel more coherent than in… however long you had been out.

It takes far longer than you thought it would to open your eyes. Even then, they’re heavy and not responding like how you want, as if covered in wet concrete.

Speaking of not responding, your arms felt like lead weight, pinning you to whatever surface you’re lying on— _it’s… soft, or, at least, softer than the ground of the alley, that’s for sure—_ but your head no longer feels like it’s about to explode.

You grumble, shifting against the desire to go back to sleep. You’re not sure what’s going on, but you had no intention to remain in the dark much longer. _Literally and figuratively._

Your eyes open, and you wince, the surrounding light a bit brighter than comfortable. Of course, that could be because you’re not wearing your shades—

_Your shades_.

Panicking, you look around the area— _some sort of… bedroom? With bright posters on the walls—_ before seeing a makeshift shelf— _makeshift was right. It seemed to be a wooden board on short, concrete construction bars—_ covered with random trash, junk, what seemed to be a mini-basketball hoop, and— _your shades!_

Almost frantically, you grab them— _they didn’t just protect your eyes, they were the first thing, the **only thing** you still had, that you got from Jake—_and place them on your nose, calming immediately once they’re in that calming, familiar place.

It’s then that you realize you’re in a strange place you don’t recognize and _not_ the random alley in the middle of nowhere like you last remembered yourself to be. You look around cautiously, studying your surroundings with a bit more observation.

As you had first observed, it was a bedroom— _you approved of the four suit bedsheets, very classy—_ with various posters and weapons on the wall. There was a small window— _the source of the light that had been bothering you—_ to the side in front of the makeshift desk and a cabinet filled with what you suspiciously thought to be fossils and dead things in bottles…

You wrack your mind for information, but keep drawing a blank on how you had ended up here— _last night? Right?—_ last night. You’re pretty sure that you hadn’t… picked up someone or vice-versa— _though, you had found out during your year alone that there were quite a few sick freaks more than happy to bring some random dude in an alley home—_ but you really couldn’t recall how you had gotten here.

Studying the bedroom surroundings again, your eyes land on some _really_ badly drawn posters on the wall. Strange, they seemed familiar somehow—

_CREAK_

You whip towards the sound and freeze, mimicking the way the person in the doorway suddenly freezes once he realizes you’re looking at him.

Staring commences.

After a few _very_ awkward moments, he speaks, “Oh, shit, you’re, uh, you’re awake. I mean, _duh_ , but, uh,” he clears his throat, looking away, probably because you’re still _staring_. “Well, I, uh, am not sure how it goes, but I’m the dude who picked your unconscious butt from that alleyway, like, three days ago—”

“Three days?” you blurt out, that sudden fact enough to break you from your silence, though you still couldn’t blink for the life of you— _thank goodness your shades were on, you’d look like such a creepy staring at **him** —_

“Yeah!” the stranger says— _stranger, no, that messy blonde hair, black shades, pale skin, awkward limbs, it was—_ with a grimace. “Uh, erm, actually that’s probably not a good thing. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be knocked out for three days in some weirdo’s house, not that I’m a weirdo, I swear, I wasn’t like, doing anything _weird_. No crazy ass stalker shenanigans here, wasn’t, like, sniffing your hair or anything—”

The stranger— _no, **no** , not stranger, this person was—_grimaces, looking around before suddenly stiffening, his head snapping back to you with more than a hint of panic. “Shit, uh, I mean, sorry, man, I got, uh, work, so…” He gave a jerky nod, waving his fingers unintelligbly. “Food’s in the fridge or, er, some leftover ramen and AJ—I mean AJ’s the best, don’t get me wrong man _—_ but, I got to go, or I’ll be late for my set and… uh...”

With another nod, he was gone, faster than should have been possible for a normal person.

You’re left alone in the bedroom, head _reeling_. It wasn’t what he said— _though, **three** days!?—_no, it was something else entirely.

Had it just been some… random stranger, it would have been weird, hell yeah, but, no, it wasn’t just some stranger.

You _knew_ him.

Or… at least who he used to be. Thousands and thousands of years ago, a face and name you couldn’t even remember until around a year ago but now was crystal clear…

No, this person… it was your _brother_.

_Dave._

o0o0o

_Flashback_

_Dave—or, as he was called by your people, Prince David of Derse—banged his head on the table, groaning loudly as he glared daggers at the stacks and stacks of paper that lined the desktop in front of you both. “Just kill me now, Bro. Seriously, just take my sword and **skewer** me through—” _

_“Nah,” you said blithely, even as you also desired to just toss the stack out the nearest window and watch them flutter down. “Rose foresaw that you would also be helping me_ tomorrow _on incoming training requests from Prospit. Can’t let you miss out on all that paper-dealing goodness.”_

_“You’re such an asshole,” grumbled Dave, head still on the desk as he looked at you with a pitiful expression. “Do the people know that their ruler is such a dick? Like, shit, call the cook and tell them to start making your breakfast in the shape of a—”_

_You smack his head, sniggering at his instant complaint while rolling your eyes at his immaturity. Though, you would have no problem if Dave actually went through with that request--maybe it’d get the nobles to stop sending their daughters your way. “You’re such a whiner—”_

_End Flashback_

You hear a door close and you blink, coming out from your memories. You resist the urge to _jump_ up, to _run_ to him— _to Dave, to your **brother** , but, how, how was this—_and force yourself to remain seated on the bed, breathing in and out at an even pace.

You raise your hand and bring it over to your arm, _pinching_ as roughly as you can until you’re sure that you’ve left a bruise— _you also notice that you’re not in the clothing you had been days ago, he, this… this person, must have changed your clothes—_ and are relatively certain that this isn’t a dream. It was hard to tell sometimes, reality and dream still mixing up in your mind even now after being free for two years, but you were pretty certain in this case.

Still, you almost wished that it _was_ a dream, because you had no fucking clue how to handle anything about this situation.

That… that _person_ , he didn’t seem to recognize you, but you _sure as hell_ recognized _him_. It was possible that it was just… just a lookalike, or something-- _if so, you’re going to kill the asshole out there in the Universe who thought this would be fucking funny--_ but… a part of you had just _felt_ something familiar in him.

While you hadn’t gotten a chance to look at his Soul— _that… that would tell you for sure, because no two Hearts or Souls were the same; like some sort of stupid snowflake trend—_ a part of you had just _resonated_ when you looked at him. It was impossible, but a part of you was _screaming_ that it _was him_.

Was **_Dave_**.

Sighing, you realize that you’re not going to get any clues sitting around. Besides, he had said that he had work or something, right? That meant that, even though he was gone now, he would come back, eventually, right? Then, then you would be able to find out for sure…

_And, if it was true… what did it mean? If that was really Dave’s reincarnation or something, did that mean that **Roxy** and **Rose** —_

You cancel out those thoughts, _refusing_ to get your hopes up. Already, this was more than you could handle so you resolved to do what you did best— _run away from the issue_.

Standing, you stretch your arms above your head, wincing when the joints _pop_ rather painfully. Of course, you weren’t that surprised, after apparently spending three days ill in bed and, before that, being beaten to an inch of your life, but it was _still_ rather unpleasant.

Speaking about being beaten up, you wander over to a small, hanging mirror in the room and study your reflection. You’re still bruised and your ribs still _hurt_ like you had been run over, but you looked far better than you expected with only a few bandaged cuts and fading bruises covering your eyes and jaw bone. The wonders of a real bed and all… though even proper bedding couldn’t change the fact that, even looking better, you looked like a world-class hobo.

Hesitating at the doorway of the bedroom longer than you’d ever admit, you venture outside the room and look around.

It was your typical small, crappy apartment, with the living room connected to a tiny kitchen area. There appeared to just be a couch— _with strewn blankets on it… you had a feeling that Da—your rescuer had been sleeping here for the last few days—_ in front of a beat-up looking television that had obviously seen better days.

You look to your right where the kitchen is, walking over scattered juice boxes, ramen bowls, dirty clothing, trash, and other typical college-student remains— _he… he had looked to be college age, right? Maybe a bit younger. He looked **exactly** like how he did before you had failed them all—_ distributed at random across the floor. The kitchen is in a rather similar state, random dishes laid by the sink and a stove that looks like it hadn’t been turned on in weeks…

The “clean-freak” part of you grimaces while your _heart_ clenches even further. Dave… your brother, he had been horrifically messy as well. Always leaving his stuff everywhere and giving you, your siblings, and the maids who cleaned his room grief…

You shake the thoughts from your head, _firmly_ telling yourself that you didn’t know for certain yet that this person was _your Dave—though, a part of you was already saying it was, wasn’t it?—_ and, regardless, this guy had saved you— _for… whatever reason—_ and didn’t need you freaking out over him.

Of course, the way he had been rambling before, freaking out seemed to be the norm. It genuinely confused you, remembering that _your Dave_ , at least, had been pretty calm and collected with his words. You were no stranger to him getting flustered— _or, at least, from what you could recall—_ but, the way he had been acting, he had only acted with _K—_

_PANG_

You wince, gritting your teeth as your head _throbs_. You place a hand against the living room wall, right above a little stand with what appeared to be a cellphone on it— _shit, you hope that he hadn’t needed that—_ and steadying yourself, waiting for the sensation to pass. It happened sometimes, where you would get _so close_ to recalling something-- _a thing, person, event--_ near the end of your previous life, but this sudden _pain_ would derail all progress you had made.

As far as you figured, you felt like you were missing… half a year, maybe more, from your memories. You weren’t sure what had happened in that half year— _only in your nightmares did you get glimpses, of **dead** bodies and a **monster** and **failure** ringing through you—_ but it had obviously been pretty bad so you’re not certain you even _want_ to remember it all. Even if it gave you some clue to what was currently happening, you’re kind of terrified at what you would find.

Breathing out slowly allows you to regain your balance, but, in the meantime, you stare at the pictures taped to the wall. Obviously, this guy had been too cheap or too lazy— _if he was anything like your Dave, probably the latter—_ to buy picture frames, but the pictures themselves were of decent quality, likely taken by hand with a camera.

It appears to be some sort of photo collage, with many pictures grouped together, but there were recurring characters. Mainly, the blonde kid who had saved you— _Dave, your heart whispers, **Dave** —_some dopey looking black haired kid with buck-teeth— _looked like a real dweeb; and your chest panged at how familiar that smile was—_ a dark-haired girl with a bright smile and round glasses— _for whatever reason, your chest pangs again, again finding something familiar in her—_ an orange-haired girl with bright red shades— _you approved, she seemed like a badass chick—_ a black haired guy with red and blue glasses— _what was this? A 3D movie? Of course, you couldn’t poke fun when it came to eyewear—_ a truly stunning black-haired young woman that looked like a model and somehow gave credit to green lipstick-- _you could respect that—_ and a few others randomly appearing from photo to photo.

However, the person that appeared the most, even more than your blonde savior, was an extremely moody looking albino boy— _and, wow, you thought that your hair had problems—_ with bright red eyes and a scowl the size of the state.

In nearly every picture, and, sometimes, all alone, he appeared, scowling as large as ever but something _warm_ in his eyes— _especially when he was paired with Dave—_ as he avoided looking right at the camera. Obviously, whoever had taken these was rather fond of this surly teen-- _you had a feeling that it was your blonde savior_.

You nod, appreciating the quality of the photos even with the reappearance of the surly albino in nearly every one of them. Cool, not like you had any reason to judge.

Vertigo now passed, you set your hand down on the small side table, forgetting that there was a cellphone right there.

As a result, your hand knocks it off. You quickly bend your knees, barely catching it, fumbling like and idiot, accidentally pressing the blinking screen—

_“You have seven unheard voicemails. First message, **beep** — Hey, dickwad,” _A moody voice comes on the line, reminding you of the albino boy in the pictures for whatever reason. “ _Answer the goddamn fucking phone! I know you’re there—”_

You press at the screen, trying to get it to shut off because this was one hell of an invasion of privacy--

_“Second message, **beep—**_ _Will you answer the phone?!_ ” It was the same voice from before. “ _You dickmunching asshole! I know you’ve been avoiding me and it stops **now**. Listen, I’ll be at that shitty Chinese place you like so much. I’ll even pay. Just, please, Dave—”_

Your heart skips a beat, hearing that familiar name— _you wanted confirmation? How much more could you get—_ and, as a result, you fail to turn off the phone as the next two messages play.

_“Third message, **beep** — So… you’re not going to show up, are you? It’s been two hours, and you’re fucking OCD when it comes to time, so... no, I’ll just wait. Please come, okay Dave? Fourth message, **beep** — You know what, Dave? Fucking **FINE**! You don’t want to talk to me and act like a fucking infant, fine! See if I ever talk to **again** —”_

Swallowing, you _finally_ press the off button, though you fail to relax even as you succeed in not hearing that grouchy voice again.

_You screwed up._ Not only were you, even unintentionally, snooping through this guy’s house, but you had listened to what were obviously _private_ messages on his phone between him and… Shouty Albino— _you knew it had to be him, you usually had a pretty good sense for these things._

Despite your resolve not to think about it, thoughts ran through your head about what you just heard. Obviously, they were in some sort of fight, a fight you had no reason to know _anything_ about because you were just this random beat-up hobo he found on the _street_ —

Groaning, you press a hand to your head, almost wishing you were sleeping again. While three days wasn’t your record— _try centuries, though you definitely didn’t want a repeat of that—_ it certainly made the passage of time easier when you were sleeping away your concerns.

The cellphone flashes _8:30—given that it appeared to be dark outside the front door, you were guessing that was 8:30 at night; of course, with the weather being weird as fuck you couldn’t bet on it—_ and you realize that Dave— _it wasn’t confirmed that it was **your** Dave, but you had to admit it was **a** Dave—_probably had some sort of night job. He probably wouldn’t be back until the morning, or at least past midnight.

The logical thing to do would be to go back to sleep, try to process everything-- _as well as what random alley you would go to after this--_ but you knew that you wouldn’t sleep a wink from the thoughts pounding against your skull. Not to mention you were still quite beat up from being jumped…

Still…  

You consider walking out, pretending this never happened and just leaving without another glance. Maybe leave a ‘thank you’ note on the refrigerator— _haha, you had such a great history leaving just a **note** , didn’t you?—_but it left a bad taste in your mouth.

Speaking of taste…

Your stomach grumbles and you wonder when was the last time you ate. You wonder if… _Dave_ had managed to feed you anything while you slept, because you were currently _starving_.

Of course, it wasn’t like you had been eating that much _before_ you had been randomly beaten up, and sometimes eating was still _weird_ to you— _though, not as weird as that first time when Jake had…no, stop thinking about him—_ but you conceded that it was a vital part to survival.

You venture over to the kitchen, subtly checking out your surroundings before going over and opening the refrigerator door— _you remember the first time you had tried opening one of these, in that lodge in the mountains, had nearly **wiped** out and would have if not for Jake—_ and grimacing as you saw it was pathetically bare.

There was butter, what looked to be a half-carton of eggs, some random, peeling vegetables, and what was probably the scraps of a store-bought rotisserie chicken. You also saw some of the ‘ramen’ that he had mentioned before leaving, but it wasn’t much.

You sigh, tangling your hand in your hair as you wonder how this guy was able to live like this.

Of course, as a current hobo, you had no place to judge, but one of the messiest apartments you’ve ever seen and a nearly empty fridge… it actually kind of touched you, now that you thought about it again. This guy was obviously struggling to make ends meet as it was, but he had _still_ gone out of his way— _there was no doubt in your mind that he had dragged you from the alley up into this apartment through a blizzard, whether it was half a block or a few miles by car—_ to help you out.

You feel guilty about your previous thought to just run out. Who… whoever this person was, he didn’t deserve that, ghosts of the past haunting you or not.

Actually…

You glance over to the stove and back at the scraps in the fridge, a risky idea forming in your head. If you were wrong, you’d be kicked out for sure, but if not… hopefully, he’d take it as a ‘thank you’ and not a hobo randomly coming on to him?

_Hopefully_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap to chapter two! What do you think that Dirk’s going to do? Hopefully not something that’s actually really creepy and likely to get him kicked out before even finding out if this guy is actually his reincarnated brother or not. For those who have read the previous one-shots (particularly a certain one…), you probably have an idea!
> 
> Anyway, what do you think is going on with Karkat and Dave? Jeeze, I bet you thought that Dirk and Jake would be the main focus with a few side glances at a happy, functional relationship between Dave and Karkat… welp NOPE! Hahahaha! I meant what the whole ‘something is trying to make them miserable, something is trying to kill them’ thing I put in the summary. 
> 
> Can any of you guess what’s up with Karkat and Dave? Oh, and Albino Karkat, always awesome.
> 
> Also, can anyone figure out who was missing in that photo collage? Someone rather important that, in typical stories, is generally ALWAYS included in that group… any guesses? Kudos to the first person who has an idea!
> 
> Anyway, the Chapter Title ‘Ruby Eyes’ obviously refers to Dave and Karkat while also keeping up with the title theme. What’s the title theme? Erm… well, treasure/gemstones is an obvious one, but I’ll probably quickly run out of those and start adding magic puns as well. Lol, if you have ideas for chapter titles, throw them out. 
> 
> Please Leave A Comment Or Kudos to tell me what you think!


	3. Like Knight And Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it’s probably not a common story, but the whole ‘golden wall’ thing comes from this tale I’m familiar with. Basically, it’s called ‘The Wall and The String,’ and is more of a parable than anything that states that neither string nor the wall can defeat one another. A string cannot go through a solid wall and a wall, even made out of stone, cannot crush string. Basically, the point is that, while neither can dominate the other, what can be done is that a rope can be made from the string and to allow someone to go over the wall. A story about compromise, considering the skills of two very different things, and how even the biggest barrier or weakest asset can become a solution together. 
> 
> I use ‘Golden’ here because, in many ways, Dirk is that Golden Wall—a reference to the treasures in the Cavern of Hearts—with his ‘stone-hard’ ways. If someone tries to break through, even something as strong as gold will eventually break, but nothing will be solved that way. He needs someone willing to compromise with him and go over his walls without destroying them. 
> 
> The string also relates heavily to Dirk himself because the string is also a reference to the bonds between people—thing platonic version of the red string of fate—and he, of course, has that knowledge covered being the Prince of Hearts. Though he needs someone that can show him how to make solid bonds that become rope to get over the wall rather than letting the rope fray and tear apart, sending him back to the ground. 
> 
> So, yeah, that was part of my inspiration for the title. Sorry if it seems random! Anyway, as always, I love feedback and comments! Please leave a Kudos if you enjoy!

It’s about half past two— _in the morning, it had to be morning—_ when you hear the front door of the apartment open, freezing from where you had been wiping down the countertops and having just finished putting everything away that you had… borrowed. You swallow, hoping that you hadn’t been wrong and that he wouldn’t see this as a creepy intrusion to his privacy. Who were you kidding? Of _course_ this was a _creepy intrusion_ —

You have no time to hide— _or do much of anything, the front door had a perfect few of the kitchen given this place was cramped as hell—_ as Dave walks through the front door, bundled in a ratty coat that was _probably_ less of a winter coat— _shit, was it still snowing? Great, once you left you were definitely going to die—_ and more of something shoplifted from a second-hand store.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stops, staring at you— _you knew he was staring at you, could see it in the way his eyebrows were raised; even when Dave had been wearing his shades in the past you could always read him like a book—_ before glancing at the countertop you had just been wiping down. You doubted he was looking at your hand— _or, maybe, the apartment looked like it hadn’t seen soap and a sponge since it was built—_ but rather the _steaming platter of food_ on the counter.

There really wasn’t much, you hadn’t _had_ much to work with, but you were confident that you had the best with what scraps existed around the kitchen. You had made chicken stir-fry using the stale ramen noodles, peeling vegetables, and remains of the rotisserie chicken, using random spices you had found and mixing it all with egg to give it more flavor. You had managed to make a fair amount— _you were good at making the most out of ingredients—_ and had placed a plate and couple of juice boxes next to the bowl.

It was a perfectly simple, edible meal— _though, perhaps you weren’t the best judge, having not eaten for thousands of years. But, Jake, he had always seemed…—_ but, suddenly, you were afraid that you had _grievously_ overstep your already unknown boundaries. After all, what right did you have to touch _anything_ this guy owned? None. Zip. _Nada_. And it probably tasted like shit anyway—

“Holy fuck,” says Dave finally, snapping you from your thoughts. “This is incredible, dude. Where’d you get all this stuff?”

Blinking, you cautiously gesture towards the fridge and cabinets and he just _gawks_ at you, seeming to understand your nonverbal answer and disbelieving that it was actually possible. Then, in the next second, he’s rapidly pulling off his coat— _throwing it onto the couch, you frown, he needs a coat rack—_ and crossing the newly cleaned floor as if it was lava and it was vital that he made it to the other side for survival.

He sits at the countertop, on a shitty bar stool with ripped leather, and scoops some of the chicken stir-fry on to his plate with eagerness. “Shit, I haven’t had real food in _forever_. And, this, it smells amazing. Like, fuck, get Gordon Ramsey up here, he won’t have shit to say about this masterpiece…”

Embarrassment— _as well as relief and pleasure—_ wells up inside of you and you grin. “Sorry if you were planning to do anything else with the stuff,” you say, shrugging awkwardly. “Thought it’d be a good thank you for… saving me and all.”

 _“Mmmmm_ ,” Dave tries to speak through a mouthful, but has to swallow, letting out a small sound of contentment before answering you. “Shit, no problem, bro. Serve me this, and I’ll save you all you want, be your fucking knight—”

You both freeze, Dave likely because of his non-stop mouth and you because he had said the word _‘knight’. It was too close to home, too close to what you wanted him to be._

Dave reddens, looking away, obviously in an attempt to change the subject, before stopping.

He’s looking over at the living room, you realize with apprehension, and no doubt he can see the difference—

“You cleaned everything!” he exclaims, jaw dropping even as he stabbed a seasoned carrot and putting into his mouth. “Shit, it wasn’t even _this clean_ when I moved in… the opposite really—”

“Sorry,” you blurt out, unable to take it anymore. “I, uh, I know that’s weird. But I wanted to say thanks, but you had already left—”

Dave waves his fork, shaking his head even though he also looked a bit uncomfortable. “Don’t, uh, worry about it. Really, thanks for all of this. If anyone is in the running for ‘ _creep of the year’_ award it’s me. I basically _kidnapped_ you and, uh, didn’t really tell anyone that you were here for three days. I mean, I wasn’t _actually_ trying to kidnap you! There was this freak snowstorm— _really, snow in March, what the fuck—_ and we were actually _snowed in_ so it wasn’t that big of a deal to take care of you, but I know you probably have someone—”

“No,” you interrupt, your head reeling from his words and only managing to catch on to that last part. “I… there’s no one.”

_At least, not anymore…_

It’s silent between the two of you for a few moments, only breaking when Dave takes another bite of the chicken stir-fry and moans exaggeratedly.

You grin, despite yourself, feeling your heart breaking in two and being stitched back up at the familiar, yet not, sound. “Is it good?”

Dave nods eagerly, grinning— _you snort, seeing a piece of chicken hanging from his teeth. What a loser_. “Of course, bro! You think I make this eargasm of sounds for just anyone’s food? I’ve gone to _restaurants_ that aren’t as good, you should be proud man.”

“Thanks,” you say again. “I… have a lot of practice.”

_How ironic that you spent so much time practicing for someone that you planned to never see again?_

Dave nods, not noticing your internal strife before freezing, looking at you with the outline of wide eyes from beneath his shades. “Shit, I haven’t even introduced myself. That’s what you do when you save guys from alleys that you don’t plan to sell to the circus, right?”

It looks like he wants to hold out his hand, but with his right holding his fork and the other the plate of chicken stir-fry, he seems to settle with a short wave of the fork. “Name’s Dave Strider. DJ-mastermind and maker of sick beats. This crappy apartment is mine, so thanks again for making it look less like a piece of shit. I’d clean myself, but… nah.”

You snort, even as your heart _pangs_ at the reminder of his name. “That’s a weird coincidence,” you say, heart beating fast. “My name’s _Dirk_ Strider. What are the odds we would have the same last name?”

_Especially since it had been Jake’s friend—what had been her name? Something like TG—who had given you this name…_

Dave’s eyebrows raise, obviously agreeing. “Shit, man, that _is_ weird. Like, supernatural, look out for the UFO’s, level of coincidence. We even have the same sick shades, though mine are obviously better since they used to belong to Ben Stiller…”

You adjust the shades on your face, repressing memories of how you had been given these.

“Yeah,” you acknowledge. “Really weird. Any other freaky coincidences you want to throw out?”

Dave shrugs. “Don’t know. Fuck, for all I know, we _are_ related somehow.” As you freeze— _though, probably for another reason that he thought—_ he hurriedly continues. “I mean, damn, I didn’t mean to get back on the creepy track, next stop identity swap, I-I was just saying how I’m an orphan, and, uh, obviously don’t know my family—”

He shrugs helplessly, face bright red as he shovels more food into his mouth. You feel pity for him, even as your heart continues to beat erratically in your chest.

You were so confused. From this situation. From the strange way that Dave was acting. From _everything_ that had happened since you had been freed two years ago from the Cavern of Hearts. You’d ask if you’d ever catch a break, but you knew you didn’t deserve one.

“It’s fine,” you answer after a moment. “I’m an orphan too. A… friend of a friend actually decided what my last name should be.” _It was only later that you realized that it was **your** last name, from so long ago… it had been an unnerving coincidence. _ “So it’s really just a coincidence.”

“Really?” muses Dave, the metal of the fork scraping the edge of the bowl as he absentmindedly twirled more pasta on of it. “They really didn’t have a last name for me, so I chose that name randomly too… it felt… I don’t know, _right_ or something…”

You swallow. There were really too many coincidences piling up here. Evidence was leaning further and further into _this_ Dave being _your_ Dave. But, no, it couldn’t be…

“So, what do you do in your free time?” you ask, worried as fuck that you sounded like a total stalker. You had no idea what to say to your possibly reincarnated brother. Of course, you could actually _check_ his Soul, find out for certain, but you were a fucking _coward_ —

“Um,” says Dave, his fork pausing in his pasta before twisting around a noodle and bringing it to his mouth. “I write this… online comic. I mean, I don’t use my name, I use the handle _turntechGodhead_. It’s pretty sick man, you should check it out, it’s called—”

 _“Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff!_ ” you exclaim, remembering the poster on Dave’s bedroom wall and wondering why it had looked so familiar. Of course, it was! How could it _not_ _be_?

Dave looks startled from your outburst, seeming to blink beneath his shades before answering you. “Uh, yeah! I’m guessing that you’ve heard of it?”

“Heard of it?” you repeat, suddenly more excited than you have been in a _long_ time. “Hell, yeah! I love that comic! I’ve been reading it for… just under a year and a half now. It’s a sweet deal, man. How do you come up with that stuff?”

To your amazement, it appears that Dave is actually _blushing_ — _you swallow, remembering when your Dave would smile the same way, in that shy, embarrassed manner that meant that he was actually really pleased—_ and his mouth quirks. “Just comes naturally, man,” he answers, shrugging in a way that completely failed to be nonchalant. “Like all great works of art.”

Despite his obvious bullshit answer, you nod enthusiastically. “I can’t believe it, I’m _actually_ meeting the creator of my favorite comic. This is… unreal,” _Like other things present. Were you sure you weren’t dead right now? Though, you’d definitely been through stranger things in your very, very, very long lifetime._

You ignore the voice at the back of your head, leaning back and soaking in the knowledge that the maker of your favorite work of art— _no matter what Jake said—_ was sitting in front of you. Somehow, relating Dave to that, rather than being the possible reincarnation of your brother from thousands of years ago, was easier for you to handle.

“So…” Dave gestures towards your right arm. “That tattoo, then, it’s…”

You nod, feeling heat rise to your face. You had wondered if he had seen your tattoo. After taking care of you for three days and apparently changing your clothes, you would have wondered about his eyesight if he hadn’t. He must have not wanted to just ‘assume’ that it was from his comic, which was understandable.

“Uh, yeah, it’s from SBAHJ. I really liked it after reading it for a while so a… a friend and I got matching tattoos. Best purchase I’ve ever made.”

You still remember the look on Jake’s face when you had said you wanted a tattoo— _no_ , stop it. Stop thinking about _him._ Not that you had ever been good at forgetting your savior— _to be truthful, you kind of hoped you never would—_ this past year, but, for whatever reason, he seemed to be popping up in your mind more often than usual.

You wonder if there was any point trying to stop how every thought seemed to connect to him?

Probably not.

A moment passes in silence between you two, Dave eating and you standing awkwardly beside the countertop, before a thought seems to cross Dave’s mind. You can tell it because he suddenly tenses, straightening his spine as he looks at you again.

“Shit, man, did you eat?” he gestures to where only a third of the chicken stir-fry remains. You frown, wondering how hungry he had been… “Sorry, I ate a lot of it.”

Your amber eyes widen and your stomach growls against your will. Still, you ignore it. “I couldn’t, D-Dave—” _You hope he didn’t hear that stutter, but probably no such luck._ “—I made that for you. Besides, I’ve already used enough of your resources—”  
Dave snorts. “Resources? You sound like a telemarketer for mutual loans or some shit like that. Dude, you made an _awesome_ meal. It’d be a fucking shame if you didn’t have any of it.”

  
At his insistence, you get another plate from the dish rack— _you’re glad that you had managed to wash all the dirty dishes—_ and scoop on a small serving of the chicken stir-fry. Dave frowns and, to your surprise— _and his, if the way his eyebrows raise is any clue—_ reaches over to put the rest of the food on it.

Too stunned, you wordlessly bring the plate back to your chest and begin eating, grabbing a spoon from the countertop and starting on the vegetables. Your stomach thanks you. If it was sentient, it would probably be crying word of joy from the first food you’ve had in a long while. You still feel guilty, but decide it’s not worth arguing over.

“So…”

You look up, seeing him fidget and flounder for words. It’s so _surreal_ and _painful_ at the same time. How did you always get in these situations?

“You said, uh, that you didn’t have anyone?” he asks. “Where do you live then? I can give you a ride if you want. It’s, uh, still really cold, so my piece of shit car might take a few kicks to start, but I can get you wherever you want in Houston.”

You swallow, wincing despite yourself. “Uh… nowhere to drive to,” you try to say casually, and not full out reveal that you’re a _homeless vagrant_. “I, uh, just backpack around. Don’t really have a home at the moment.”

Dave’s nose scrunches. “But, I didn’t see a backpack when I, uh, got you. Shit, did I forget it? I’m sorry man, we can go back—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, wincing again at the memory. “My stuff was actually stolen. That’s why I was, uh, beat up and all. At least I think. It’s kind of hazy.”

He stares at you. “So, you have nowhere to go and no one?”

You wince yet again, before berating yourself for acting so pathetic all the time. “Uh, sounds about right. But it’s cool, man, this isn’t the first time. Don’t worry, I can leave right now if you want—”

“But it’s fucking cold outside!” Dave blurts out, before his face reddens. “And, shit, I’m not trying to sound like a fucking Christmas carol, no winter date-rape happening here, I swear, but, seriously man, the weather has been jacked up for shit. You can’t just go out and sleep on the _streets_ —”

You shrug. “Not much else I can do. Money was taken, so unless I quickly find a job I’m out of luck. And, even then, it’ll be a while before I can actually stay anywhere. But, like I said, it’s fine—”

“Stay here!”

You freeze.

Had you heard that right?

You stare at him, going over his words in your mind and, no matter how you looked at it, couldn’t find for the life of you what he meant. “Wait, are you offering—”

“Uh, yeah!” he stutters, face redder than a tomato as he avoids looking to you. “You, uh… said you needed a job, right? Well, you can cook and clean. It’s not much, but you can hang out here and do that until you figure out something better and, _shit_ this sounds so _stupid—_ ”

“Dave,” you say firmly, making his head whip towards you at the stern tone. Frankly, _you’re_ surprised at your voice. You make sure to soften your voice, even as your heart pounds loudly and threatens to close off your throat from lack of air. “Are… are you sure? I mean, you don’t know shit about me. I would be really grateful, but, really, you don’t have to—”

“I want to!” Dave freezes and lets out a loud sigh, looking down and hiding his face in his left hand. “Shit… I’m… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Seriously, man, I’m not usually like this. It’s just, I, I don’t know why, but I don’t, like, want anything to _happen_ to you, you know? No homo, I swear, but I must be finally getting the ‘ _decent human being gene’_ because something about you leaving really leaves me…”

“Unsettled?” You swallow. It was the same way you felt about him, but it couldn’t possibly be for the same reason. _Or could it? Could it really be your reincarnated brother? But, even if it was, why would it make him act this way?_

“I… I feel the same about you, bro,” you say awkwardly, wondering if this was the right thing to say. “Like, I’m really glad that _you_ were the one who found me. I… I would have been in a lot of trouble if you hadn’t.”

You crook your head towards the kitchen. “And, if it means that much to you, I’d be more than happy to be your personal chef and cleaner. Beats sneaking garbage from trash cans for my next meal.”

Dave laughs— _he probably thought you were kidding—_ too high pitch to be normal, but no longer with that hysteric air that he had before. He relaxes and, after a moment, hands you his bowl, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Well, welcome aboard then, bro. Really _Casa de Strider_ now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This month of class… it’s eaten me without the decency of spitting me back out. This is the last of my pre-written chapters too, so… yeah… we’ll see if I can pull a miracle for next week. *SOBS* I might be moving back my 'noon' update as a result to sometime during the late afternoon too. 
> 
> Anyway, I bet you’re wondering why Dirk’s language and personality have changed so much since his infant beginnings in The Greatest Treasure, aren’t you? Well, there you have it. He was corrupted by the internet XD. 
> 
> Yes, Dirk has taken to the gospel that is Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff—Jake was so aghast, if amused—and religiously, obsessively, checks for updates. …my poor ‘innocent’ Djinn Dirk has been corrupted, it’s so sad. He’s still far from the personality of Canon Dirk, but he’s definitely less of the shadow of a person he used to be. 
> 
> Hmm… and Dave is acting strange, isn’t he? Wonder why? 
> 
> So, another expository chapter that’s really necessary to set the grounds for the story. Dirk now lives as Dave’s home chef and maid! Lol, as you saw at end of the one-shot ‘Breakfast For A King’ I mentioned that Dirk’s skills in cooking and cleaning would play a part in him moving with someone else. Bet you didn’t think that it would be Dave, did you?


	4. Time To Get To Know You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I finally had some breathing room this week to write, so hopefully the end result isn't too bad. Prepare for more build-up, clues, and general Dirk and Dave interaction!

The next few days with Dave were… an adjustment, for lack of a better word.

_No, they were **damn right awkward** were the words for it. _

The next afternoon of that first day, when Dave had woken up, you had already cooked him scrambled eggs— _you were kind of low on things to cook with, okay?—_ and sort of awkwardly beckoned him over to eat. It had been quiet between the two of you, neither apparently knowing what to say, you especially, given what you had found out the night before—

_Flashback_

_It was just after Dave had finished eating your makeshift chicken stir-fry and went to the couch to sleep. You had protested, saying that the bed was obviously his, but he had said that, as beat up as you were, you needed far more than he did._

_When you tried to protest, he had cut you off, saying “as your new employer, I demand that you get back to full health. Seriously man, I’m not trying to sound rude, but you still look like shit” before passing out on the couch. The bags under his eyes made it obvious that he was exhausted from whatever night job he had, but the fact that he had just passed out made it even clearer that you’d really be an asshole if you tried to argue further._

_It was fine. Your head was reeling from everything that had happened in the past twelve hours—or, technically, like 72 hours since you’d apparently been asleep for three days—you decided to clean the dishes as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb him._

_Your… your Dave had slept like a rock, but… yeah. Though, honestly, this Dave was snoring to beat the band over there, looking no sign of shifting even as you accidentally scrape a pot against the cabinet while putting it away. He had said that you looked terrible, but he looked run-down and half-starved himself._

_Once you were finished, you decided there was no point being awake—you had already cleaned everything and put the remaining scraps of food away—and started walking back to the bedroom._

_On the way there, you passed the couch, on the account of this being a tiny-ass apartment with everything by everything else. You had paused, not close enough to see him but more than close enough to **sense** him. That’s right, you were talking about Souls here. And, if you looked at his Soul, you would be able to see, to **know** , if he was… if he was really the reincarnation of your brother. _

_You didn’t want to check, wanted to scurry back to the bedroom, avoid getting close as possible to him, and leave as soon as you could without another glance. That was the cowardly part of you, the part that wanted nothing more than to cease **existing** already, but… there was another part of you keeping you there beside the couch. Something **stronger** than your current self and likely thousands of years old… your old self. _

_While you had some memories of the past, you knew for a fact that the person you were in those memories… wasn’t the person you were now. You were far more pathetic, confused about everything, and helpless than that emotionless Prince of Derse. Given that your former self hadn’t been perfect in the first place, you knew that you would be doing everyone a favor if you had just disappeared instead of being trapped as a viable djinn._

_Still, there was that part of you, the part that had been an **older brother** and **ruler** , that… that didn’t want to give in. That wanted, **desperately** , to find the truth of the past; to find out what happened to your **siblings** … _

_Before you knew it, you were closing your eyes and reaching out with your abilities. You felt it, **his Soul** : _

…much stress, anxiety, like he was hiding behind a shield of irony and emotionless in order to hide the fact of how fucking **wrong** everything was. There was so much pain, he was a fighter, a survivor who kept on going no matter what was thrown at him. Definitely a **Knight** , no doubt. But **Time** … wasn’t kind to him, filling him with so much pain in the short seventeen years he had lived— _you avoided those emotions, you had no right—_ even as he did his best in life to take action and not wait for miracles that would never happen. That was a **Time** aspect without a doubt there—

 _Reeling from the shock—a **Knight** of **Time** ; Time was a rare aspect as it was, for **that** combo to be in **this** person—you try to distract yourself by looking at his bonds, grimacing you saw that many of them were in disrepair. Particularly this very thick (the thicker the string, the rope, the stronger the bond whether it be for good or bad_ ) _grey and candy-red aligned rope. It seemed to be shaking, with something fraying it down the middle as one side tried to pull the Dave to it with Dave’s side resisting yet tearing itself apart in its desire to give in—_

_You look away from it, feeling it to be the most important bond that Dave had, even if it was threatening to break. You hoped, dearly, that it didn’t. You could feel, even from this distance, how much it meant to him._

_You look at the other prominent strands, grimacing again as you saw a lot of knotted, black ones. Those typically referred to bad memories, bad **people** that Dave seemed to have trouble letting go of even if they poisoned his mind the longer they existed… you hoped they wouldn’t overtake him, but you had seen many people fall to such bonds. _

_You turn your attention to the more colorful strands seeing a fun cerulean, a solid, bright blue, a cheerful green, a weaker, normal jade green strand, a strange yellow one, and—_

_To your shock, there was already a spiraling red and orange strand connecting the two of you together. The strand was somehow strong and thick one moment before becoming limp and thin the next. It confused you, not really having anything in your memory to compare it to._

_You followed it back to him—_

Admiration.heseemscool.affection.respect.approval.hereallylikesmycomic.trust.greatfood.wanttogettoknowhimbetter. _Brother—_

_You gasp, reeling back as you open your eyes and break off your Soul Sight. Before you can risk waking him, you abscond to the bedroom, quickly closing the door and leaning back against it as you drop to the floor and try to prevent a panic attack from coming on._

_There was no doubt._

_He might not remember, probably never would, but he… that **Soul**? That was him. _

_In that room, right there on that couch, was your brother._

**_Dave_ ** _._

_End Flashback_

You… really didn’t know how to handle it. The fact that it was confirmed, that this _was_ _your_ _brother_. Even if he didn’t remember you— _you weren’t sure if you were relieved or disappointed… probably relieved, since Dave, all of them, should **hate** you—_ it was Prince David of Derse. Also known as your little brother whom you would have done _anything_ for.

_(Not that it mattered in the end, did it? You may not know how, but the feeling of **failure** , of failing **them** , would never leave all those years you were trapped in the Cavern of Hearts. You didn’t need to know the specifics to know that **you** were the one who screwed up and led to their deaths.) _

As a result of this confirmation— _and the many, many, many other problems that you had and were constantly reminded of on a daily basis—_ you really were unsure on how to interact with Dave. Your people skills, in general, were less than… adept. You would say that you had lost part of your humanity after being trapped so long with no other interaction but, really, you remembering being horrible at human interaction even _before_ being trapped so you just included it in your many faults.

_(You wish that Roxy, High Princess Roxanne, was here; she’d know just what to do to help… even if she couldn’t actively help out with the issue, she always made you feel better.)_

And, even then, the only person that you had said more than a few words to since being freed was… well, obviously it was Jake. And, obviously, you had screwed that up so it was even more concrete proof that you ruined everything you touched— _which, given that you were the Destroyer Class, wasn’t that surprising… if extremely depressing._  

Dave, who likely had no clue how to treat a stranger he had randomly invited into his home— _which was more confusing than anything else, because you was pretty sure that reincarnation meant that you didn’t get any memories or feelings of your previous life or whatever—_ was rather quiet as they ate breakfast.

Then, randomly, he seemed to get fed up with the silence and asked you to go shopping.

That… that had been an experience. You were more than a bit embarrassed, remembering how it happened:

_Flashback_

_“What the fuck do you mean there’s a difference between these two breads?” asked Dave, blinking owlishly as you, before you had been able to stop yourself, told him to get the other brand._

_“I…” you swallow, wishing you hadn’t said anything—it wasn’t your money, so what the hell were you doing? “I was just saying that this one is a better deal… if you get two loaves of this type,” you slowly point to one label and then to the other, “you save thirty cents. The reason why this bread is cheaper is because it goes old faster, but, if you eat it within the week, it’ll be completely fine.”_

_Dave stared at you. You didn’t need to see his eyes to be able to tell that he was looking at you as if you were some sort of inhuman being—which, you were, honestly—from another world. Fidgeting, you breathe out, preparing to apologize—_

_“Wow, really? I never knew.” Dave picked up two loaves of the bread that you had suggested and put them into the cart before pausing, eyeing the shelf once more. “Shit, man, should we get more? I mean, I’m all for getting as much food as possible.”_

_You blinked before shaking your head. “We can always come back,” you offer finally. “I mean, bread is pretty filling, but only supplies you with carbohydrates. It all depends on your budget and balancing out your preferences.”_

_Dave nodded uncertainly, biting his lip as he looked over the bread shelves with a whole new expression of wonder. “Yeah, no, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m horrible at financial shit.”_

_You snort before you can stop yourself. Your Dave… he had been too. It’s probably why you had instinctively corrected his choice. That and the fact that you had been getting by on **very little** the last year and needed to be as frugal as possible. _

_“It’s fine,” you said as nonchalantly as you can. “I can… give you advice if you want?”_

_Dave nodded quickly._

_From there, you went through all the various aisles, you pointing out the better deals and balancing out what would last the longest vs what was necessary to grow (cause, dammit, Dave was skinny as fuck, it made you sick to your stomach). You kept expecting Dave to call you out, tell you that you had no right to offer what he does with his hard-earned money, but, to your surprise, he took every single suggestion, only offering a comment or question when confused. You answered every last one, ecstatic and bewildered all at once._

_Dave’s eyes widened as you considered his budget carefully before putting a roast beef into the cart. “Whoa, hold on, man,” you froze, “can we really afford that? I mean, fuck, I haven’t had something that good in **years**.”_

_Your shoulders slightly relax and you breathe, leaning against the cool counter holding the various meats on display. “As long as that’s your budget,” you say, beyond certain that you were crossing the line but unable to deny Dave anything, “it’s fine. I mean, look, part of the reason that it’s so cheap is because it expires in a week and, when you consider the price, it’s actually a better deal than getting three of those tv dinners you were eyeing up before.”_

_“Shit,” mumbled Dave under his breath, actual awe in his voice before he looked up at you with something strangely close to admiration. It was impossible though. “How do you know all of this? I mean I’m not trying to whine like some sort of four-year-old who wants a candy bar even if candy is pretty dope like, Mom, can I have some Mars Bars—”_

_You snorted, unable to stop the sound nor the affection welling up inside of you at his rambles. They were honestly adorable—yeah, you better not say that out loud. “You learn a lot when you’re constantly moving around,” you answer._

_He tensed, and you wonder what you did wrong when he suddenly hunched and looked away, somehow ashamed about something. “Shit, man,” he mumbled. “I… didn’t mean to bring that up. Bringing up how a guy is homeless? Seriously uncool, Dave. Or, fuck, I didn’t mean to say that—”_

_Bewildered for a moment, you interrupted his less adorable and much more self-deprecating rant. “It’s fine!” you said quickly, wondering how you had screwed up bad enough to make him feel bad during a **shopping** trip. “I wasn’t always homeless. I…”_

_You swallowed, realizing that you were really going to do this. Only a day of being conscious in Dave’s presence and you’d already rip out your heart and give it to him if it made him feel slightly better. “I used to have someone who… took care of me,” you said carefully, flushing in shame and embarrassment at the memory. “He was loaded, but I still wanted to learn this type of thing so I could save him some of the money he wasted on me. And, I like cooking, so this was just something that came naturally…”_

_Finally, Dave looked up, strangely vulnerable in a way that made your stomach twist. What the fuck had happened to this Dave? He was like your bright-hearted Dave one moment and, the next, seemed to be filled with such shadows._

_“I’m still sorry for bringing it up,” he said, bringing you from your thoughts. “It was really uncool of me.”_

_“It’s fine,” you insisted, honestly confused why he was upset about this. “Really, this last year has been… rough, but I’m more than able to take care of myself.”_

_Neither of you mentions the fact that Dave had found you beat up in an alley without a cent to your name in the middle of a blizzard—you appreciate it._

_The two of you decide to make your way to the counter, a certain awkwardness falling over you now that you, as always, had no idea how to break._

_“What…”_

_You looked over to Dave, hyperaware of his every word._

_He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “What was that guy’s name? The… one who took care of you? I mean, shit, if it’s too personal or you don’t want to tell and why the fuck did I even ask I’m sorry, Bro—”_

_“It’s fine,” you insisted again, even as your heart leaped into your throat as he called you ‘Bro.’ You knew he did it to everyone, but it… yeah._

_You registered his question and swallowed, pondering how to answer, before knowing that there was only one way to._

_“Jake,” you said quietly, heart aching as the memory of warm emerald-green eyes filled your head. “His name was Jake.”_

_End Flashback_

So, yeah, the shopping trip of the first day ended up awkward as hell.

Things got significantly better as the two of you got ho— _to Dave’s apartment—_ and you showed Dave how one cooked a roast beef with the tools that he had on hand. You were glad that you had looked through every cabinet last night before cooking, it made it so you knew _exactly_ what you were working with and how many things you could jury rig to your purposes.

He seemed fascinated as you peeled an onion and added it to the water, describing how the onion brought out the roast beef’s flavor— _and how it had been a mere fifty cents! That was the fucking greatest small grocery store in the world; you really should have gotten more—_ and that you wanted to have it steam for multiple hours— _since the roast beef was already defrosted, it was easier—_ before serving.

From there, you had made an easy lunch of sandwiches and apple juice. Dave had seemed overwhelmed with the amount of food, as if disbelieving that you could possibly get everything on the budget that you had— _which you knew he did; the wonders of math and strategized coupons._

During the meal, you had talked, but only simple and light subjects. It wasn’t like you expected Dave to ask you your entire life story— _actually, you did, you were still a possible axe murderer he had randomly let into his apartment on the most suspicious circumstances possible—_ but he seemed more than happy to just bullshit with you. You were too, still waiting for the moment you’d wake up and this would all be a cruel dream, but you still found it odd.

It was a little after that Dave had to go to work, earlier today than yesterday. Apparently, he had a double shift— _which worried you immensely even if you kept quiet—_ but would be back around the same time. You promised to have dinner ready and he got a strange look on his face, as if he, too, couldn’t believe this was happening, before grinning and running off.

After hours of recleaning the small space and thinking up what recipes would provide the most with the least amount of ingredients, you finally gave in and went on Dave’s computer. Dave had given him the password before leaving, seemingly nonchalant of the fact that he was, again, giving a complete stranger free reign.

You hadn’t wanted to invade his privacy, but, admittedly, was bored as fuck and wasted the remaining hours looking up recipes and rereading SBAHJ comics. He knew that he should probably explore the area more, but there was still snow on the ground and he certainly wasn’t dressed for such weather.

When Dave came home— _to the apartment—_ that night, he had been even more exhausted than before, the verifiable bags under his eyes liable to give him extra shipping charges. When you had, stupidly, mentioned this as the other came through the door, Dave seemed to brighten for no verifiable reason and said that no airline in the world would charge _‘this sweet ass’._

You had only rolled your eyes before showing Dave his dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes— _you had decided to make the latter after worrying, for like an hour, about Dave’s nutrient intake._

For whatever moment, Dave had gone strangely quiet at the sight.

While terrified that you had somehow messed up, you simply put a plate in front of him and insisted that he ate. If you had screwed up and he wanted to kick you out, you, selfishly, at least wanted to see him eat before he did.

He had sat down without a word before starting to shovel it in his mouth, mumbling quietly between mouthful about how good it was and how fucking lucky he was to have his own live-in chef—

_It was then that you wondered if the reason that Dave had gone so strange about you being homeless was that he, too, had some experience with it. Perhaps not outright on the streets like you, but Dave definitely didn’t look like someone whose life had given him an abundance of comfort and meals…_

After that, he had apologized for his show of emotion but you just told him to go to bed. Of course, he went to the couch and promptly passed out instead of going to the bedroom like you’d preferred, but you said nothing about it, too caught up in trying to figure out what had made Dave this way…

The second day together had been… interesting.

Dave didn’t have work until that night and, since you’d already done the shopping, didn’t have any reason to go out. As a result, he spent the afternoon playing video games. You wondered if you should have just sequestered yourself to the kitchen, pretending to clean for the thousandth time, but hadn’t been able to resist when he called you over from the living room to play video games.

That… had been an experience.

_Flashback_

_Dave gaped from the living room, as if unable to believe the words coming from your mouth. “You’ve never played a video game?” he asked incredulously. “You’ve read my shitty comic, but you’ve never even played shit online?”_

_“Your comic is great,” you protested immediately before flushing and finally conceding to walk over, careful as ever to not overstep your boundaries. “And, no, J…Jake didn’t really like watching television, more of an outdoors sort of adventurer, so I never got the chance.”_

_Dave looked at you curiously, no doubt wondering about the time before you were with Jake, but didn’t ask. You were glad. You didn’t want to deny Dave anything, but even you knew that you’d be thrown out faster than you could blink if you even tried mentioning how you’d been imprisoned in an underground cavern as an immortal spirit for thousands of years._

_He handed you a controller as the logo for some sort of racing game lit up the screen in front of the two of you in bright and chaotic colors. Dave grinned, leaning forward from the couch. “Prepare to get **schooled** , Bro. I promise to go easy on you the first game…” _

_The first game, you got destroyed. You had no idea one button from another and had to be told, three times, which was to go and which was to stop._

_The second game, you managed to get second to last place after all the NPCs. You considered it a success since you had been going backwards for half of it. Of course, the little guy with a white hat with red spots looked pretty pathetic, so you’re not sure how much a victory it was._

_The third game though…_

_You can’t hide the grin on your face as Dave looked at the results on the screen in disbelief, your name placed firmly in first with his name in second. It had been a close game but the results were undeniable._

_“Again!” Dave had demanded, that look on his face where he was about to stubborn pursue something even if the results wouldn’t change no matter how he tried._

_Still, you indulged him. The gap between first and second only grew wider and wider, until he finally threw down his controller to the couch and demanded in rage as you tried to hold back your laughter. “We can play a different game?” you suggested, watching your character circle around the rainbow-colored track that was apparently the hardest level._

_Dave scowled, a sore loser as ever. “Can’t, that’s my only game. It’s kind of a miracle that I even have that. This is a pretty old station, but Karkat worked hard to get it—”  
Dave shut up, a tension settling in the room._

_You tensed as well, though you knew that you shouldn’t know who Karkat was. The only reason you had any semblance of an idea was because of that voicemail that you would never tell Dave you heard. After all, you could be wrong. “Who’s Karkat?” you asked tentatively after a moment, wondering if you were overstepping your boundaries again._

_The younger blonde breathed out, lips pressed together. “Have… you see the collage on the wall?”_

_Only a dozen times every time while cleaning yesterday. Still, you nodded._

_“The… albino?” he continued after a moment. “That’s Karkat. He is… was… fuck, he's my best bro but, uh, things are weird right now so I...”_

_“Don’t know where you stand?” you offered quietly, knowing how that felt. In fact, you couldn’t remember a situation where it hadn’t been exactly like that._

_Dave huffed. “Yeah, shit like that. He… we had a fight, so now it’s weird, but it’s not like I don’t care about him I just can’t—”_

_He trailed off, sighing and pressing a hand to his face. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this shit—”_

_“Not true,” you interrupted, immediately berating yourself as you saw his head snap up. “I… listen, Dave, I’m a complete stranger to you, so don’t ever feel obligated to tell me anything, but… if it’d make you feel better, you can talk about anything with me. I know that’s not really worth much but—”_

_“It is,” he blurted out, stopping you in your tracks. “Really, man, I…”_

_He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t what it is, but I feel… comfortable around you. It’s weird, like how I… feel around Karkat, or felt, I don’t know, but I’ve known him for **years** and you—”_

_“Are a stranger,” you finished, your heart lurching out for him, wanting to quell his confusion but having no idea the source. You had no idea why he was feeling the way he was either, it shouldn’t be possible with reincarnation. “Really, Dave, I get it—”_

_“No, you don’t!” he snapped suddenly, making you both freeze._

_Dave looked down, groaning. “I’m sorry, man,” he said quietly. “I… can you just give me a bit of space? I’m obviously fucking freaking out right now for no reason at this shit and you don’t deserve that—”_

_“No,” you said, even as you stand up—he looks strangely bereft as you do. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Like I said, I’m just a random hobo that you picked up off the street when it’d probably been smarter to just leave me there. Really, Dave, you owe me nothing. And if you ever want me gone… you just need to say.”_

_You pretend not to notice the vulnerable expression on his face as you walk away, repeatedly telling yourself that you had no right to try and make it go away—_

_End Flashback_

His return that night had been awkward as the two of you ate leftovers, neither of you making solid conversation as you carefully monitored what you said. It made for a pretty short meal as he went and passed out on the couch again.

But then… the nightmare.

_Flashback_

_Afterwards, you would be able to say that it was your powers that had woken you up. That your Soul had responded to Dave’s distress and made you respond accordingly._

_The only thing that you knew when waking up, however, was that Dave was **hurting**._

_Your body moved automatically, throwing the covers off, before you could register why you were awake and why you were rushing out like the room was on fire. You were outside of Dave’s bedroom and in the living room before you could think and, by then, you could hear Dave’s distressed mumbles and it didn’t matter anymore why you were awake._

_You rushed around the couch and to him, watching him toss and turn, sweaty locks clinging to his shade-less face and his eyes scrunched up as if he was in pain, as he mumbled incoherently. Before you could stop yourself, you were reaching to his shoulders and running your hands up and down his arms in a soothing motion—_ his skin feels weird, almost scarred—

_When your Dave had nightmares, an inevitable result of your childhood and ruling of Derse, you had run your hands over his arms to slowly bring him back to consciousness and let him know he was safe. Something about the contact soothed and centered had centered him, he said at later dates._

_This Dave, however, tensed, thrashing at the contact for a moment before his eyes burst open, that crimson red that made the person before you unmistakable. Still, for a moment you were surprised, so few people in this modern era had different colored eye colors, before you continue to run your hands up and down his arms (later, you wonder why he hadn’t outright punched you—it was seriously creepy thing to do to someone you didn’t know)._

_For a moment, Dave panted like he had run a marathon, eyes still tense and darting around, as if looking for whatever monster had haunted his dreams, before landing on you. His eyes widened—whether it was from surprise that it was you, of all people, or because of your orange eyes—and, apparently, even less people had orange eyes; the modern era was weird—he relaxed._

_“—okay, Dave, you’re fine, I’m here…”_

_You stopped, wondering when your mouth had started running. Shit, this wasn’t good. You quickly stop your hands, though you can’t bring yourself to make them move off his shoulders. It’s like they were glued there, bounded by your need to comfort him._

_You’re obviously doing a shit job because his shivering returns, lips trembling as **raw** pain blooms in his eyes. It’s horrible. You can feel yourself tearing apart at the sight, the desperate need to make it better but not knowing how to. _

_“Dave?” you asked, quiet. “Are you okay?”_

_You were certain as fuck that he wasn’t, but you didn’t know what to do._

_To your surprise, he does the last thing you expected him to do—_

_He hugs you._

_You freeze, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he lets out a long, winding rant, “—shit, sorry about this, but, I, fuck I’m so stupid right now it’s so stupid and I know it’s really fucking weird to just hug you like this, like, seriously, Dave, who gets messed up about nightmares? They’re not real, or, not anymore, it’s in the past, get over it already, don’t go around trying to get comfort from someone you just met and owes you jackshit, it’s so **uncool** —” _

_He’s hyperventilating—you have to stop this._

_“I don’t think you’re cool.” You blurt out, feeling his arm freeze around your middle._

_You swallow, wondering why, of all the useless things you could say, it had to be that in particular. “I mean, no, that’s not what I—"_

_“…you… you don’t think I’m cool?” asked Dave after a moment, so quiet you have to strain your ears to hear, though the apartment was dead quiet and you were pretty sure you could hear his racing heartbeat. “I mean… fuck, you’re right, this is definitely uncool—”_

_“Nah, I mean,” you sighed, trying to organize your thoughts. “In the right way, you’re the coolest guy out there, no doubt. But, in the way that doesn’t mean anything and doesn’t matter, not particularly. You... don't have to pretend around me, I'll accept you no matter what.”_

_A memory prickles at your mind, a memory of a conversation very similar to this happening in the past, but you block it out. The Dave of here and now needed you._

_Before you can stop yourself, you put an arm around Dave, holding him gently while using your other hand to draw soothing circles on his back. “Listen, Dave,” you said quietly. “What’s wrong? What… were your nightmares about?”_

_You heard him say something about the past, but it hadn’t really been clear._

_He tensed further, seeming to burrow into your stomach even further. “I… fuck, Bro, it was nothing. Just… things that happened before—”_

_Your thoughts stutter, heart racing—_

_“—of when I lived in foster care,” he continued, making your heart rate return to normal, even if you felt irrational disappointment. “It’s stupid, really, I… I mean, shit happened, yeah, but I should be over it—”_

_“I wouldn’t say that,” you interrupted, berating yourself even as you continued to talk. “What… whatever happened, it’s obviously **not** nothing.” _

_“It is!” he insisted, hands gripping your back as he attempts to convince himself more so than you, you knew. “Really, it doesn’t matter, it’s just… stupid stuff that I should be strong enough to get over. It doesn’t matter.”_

_You hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “You know… all that ‘stuff’ that happened in your past, I’m not going to say if it matters or not, because that’s not my place, but… I know better than anyone that when shit happens, it’s confusing, and it’s unfair, but it happened and you have a right to be upset about it.”_

_Dave’s trembling has gone down. Whether because he was too exhausted or your worthless babble was helping in any way, you didn’t know. You just kept talking._

_“What I’m trying to say,” you finished, mouth dry. “It’s cool. Don’t worry about it, about this. I… I’m here if you need me Dave, really. I owe you so much.” You did; beyond the fact that he had saved your life and offered you a home. “If you need anything, or ever want to talk, I’ll be here—I swear.”_

_Dave sniffled, and you realize that you can fear tears soaking into your shirt. You say nothing, continuing to rub circles on his back._

_“So fucked up,” muttered Dave, pressing his cheek into your heartbeat. You wonder if the sound calmed him—before knowing that it was a ridiculous and conceited thought. “Sorry.”_

_Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt like it didn’t need to be. Or, it could be that you just chickened out of your moral obligation to your reincarnated brother, but, even without talking about the details of the nightmare, Dave's breathing soon returned to normal. Then, he was asleep again. You couldn’t move, given that he was basically holding you in a vice grip, but strangely found you didn’t mind and drifted off yourself…_

_End Flashback_

And, now, it was the third day of living at Dave’s apartment.

That morning, when Dave had woken up, it had been— _you guessed it—_ awkward again, the other obviously embarrassed that he had cried and held you all night. You had, wisely, decided given him space, making up the excuse that you wanted to cook breakfast and pretending not to notice how he rubbed at the tear streaks on his face.

You made pancakes, loosely shaped like characters of SBAHJ (you had no artistic skill but messing up actually made them look more accurate in this case), which seemed to brighten Dave’s mood as he chowed down like there was no tomorrow.

Dave— _finally—_ spoke, making a quip about the plushness of Pancake Jeff’s ass and you responded, “Only the plushiness.”

Dave had finally smiled, opening his mouth to speak when his cell phone on the counter rang, some sort of weird-ass jingle that was familiar but you couldn’t place. He seemed to watch it for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not he wanted to pick it up, before reaching over to pick it up.

“Sup, coolest kid on the block speaking,” Dave deadpanned, though he looked far more tense than his tone indicated. He started to relax as he continued to speak— _to a ‘John’—_ but then tensed again.

“Wait, no, why are you all going to be there?” Dave bit his lower lip, a sure sign of stress if you knew one. “No, fuck, don’t—”

He abruptly stopped talking, grimacing as he put the phone down on the table. Something seemed to war in his thoughts before he abruptly looked up at you, staring at you with red eyes. You realized, then, that he had never put them on this morning.

And now, his question to you:

“Hey, Dirk… mind going to see where I work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than usual, but mostly just Dirk’s recollection of his and Dave’s first three days together. Next chapter is where we get to see where Dave works! Yay! Though I wonder why he was so upset with John… and why does he want Dirk to go to work with him? Hmm…
> 
> And I wonder what Dave was dreaming about? Not of Derse or anything related to their mythical past, but, sometimes, the things of every day life can be far more terrifying and damaging. These boys never get a break, do they?
> 
> Anyway, please leave a Comment or Kudos! It was nice to finally have some breathing room to write this week, though I still cut it outrageously close.


	5. Rogue Acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy, busy, busy... 
> 
> Please enjoy! Lots of subtle hints and ideas in this one!

The first thing to cross your mind when the two of you enter the nightclub that Dave works at?

_It’s loud_.

Since Dave is one of the DJ’s, you don’t have to stand in the long line to the door which is a relief because it’s still freezing cold outside even if it wasn’t snowing at the moment— _everyone, especially the ones in more skimpy attire, definitely look as displeased as you with the continuous freakish weather in Houston, Texas of all places._ Instead, the bouncer just jerks a thumb and you enter, the pounding music and flashing multi-colored lights already in full swing despite it being early evening.

It definitely wasn’t the first time you had been in a nightclub but it was still a different experience from the bars that you had frequented over the past year. The smell of cheap booze and tequila was nothing new though.

Dave leads the way, going around the crowd of moving bodies rather than through it, which you can’t help but be grateful for. You weren’t a fan of crowds in the first place— _you seldom had panic attacks anymore, at least—_ and being surrounded by drunk, incoherent sweaty bodies definitely wasn’t your idea for an enjoyable evening. You would almost say that you wished that Dave hadn’t asked for you to come if weren’t for the fact that you were desperate to spend any time possible in your reincarnated brother’s presence. Yeah, you were pathetic.

You were also sweating, but it had nothing to do with the sudden increase of heat in the club compared to the outside. You had no clue what you were doing here. Well, okay, you _did_ —Dave had asked—but, still, what _were_ you doing here? You knew that Dave was meeting his friends from the short, strangely quiet, drive here, but, again, why were _you_ here? Seriously, you were literally a random hobo he had picked up off the street— _why_ did he want to expose his friends to the wreck that was his past-life former-spirit current-mess of a brother? _That he still had no clue was his brother?_

Suffice to save, you were nervous as all hell. It was extremely pathetic, but you wanted these unknown friends of Dave’s to like you. Not because you would have any sore feelings if they didn’t, but because they, undoubtedly, would see all the things fucking wrong with the picture that was you sharing a home with Dave. It was almost certain that, by the end of this night, you would end up in the same situation that you were in before you had found Dave—running away with people trying to kill you.

_You might be exaggerating some parts, but it was the parts that weren’t an exaggeration that worried you._

Still, you couldn’t deny Dave anything—which is the reason you stupidly said yes the moment he asked. Which led to the current circumstances.

“Dave!” a voice yells out from the among the music.  

You tense, immediately alert as you look up before freezing.

A teenager, probably about Dave’s age if not exactly, slid his way through the crowd, waving far more excitedly than needed as he came closer. He had dark hair, large, too-blue eyes, and a dorky grin to match his dorky smile. You recognize him from the picture as well as his resemblance to… certain individuals. You know you had to just be making it up in your head, but the similarity to… him… was uncanny.

“Hey, John,” says Dave in front of you, giving a light fist-bump as he introduced the stranger to be the same one who had invited him out tonight. “What’s up man?”

John shrugged, stupid grin still on his face. “Same old, same old, doing homework, watching Nic Cage, dodging Vriska’s wrath—”

Dave snorts. “You still don’t have that shit figured out? Man, only you would be interested in the psycho spiderbitch.”

“She’s not that bad!” whined John, making you think that, whoever this Vriska was, she probably was ten times worse. “Really, Dave! You just got to get to know her better!”

“Pass,” says Dave, deadpan. “I like all my limbs intact. And sanity.”

John playfully pushes Dave and you can’t help but notice Dave tense at the action. It was only ever so slightly, so quickly it was like the sun hitting off a piece of glass, but, like reflecting light, blinding and immediately seared into your brain. There were pieces coming together here… and you really didn’t like the shape of them. Still, you didn’t say anything as Dave forces out a light chuckle.

“Watch the merchandise, dude,” says Dave, brushing off where John hit, as if to conceal the reaction that you were certain no one but you had seen. “I still got to work in a few minutes.”

John pouts, like legitimately pouts. He looks like a kicked puppy, which is rather pathetic and irritatingly endearing at the same time. “C’mon, _Dave_ ,” he whines. “Everyone’s here to see you!”

Dave tenses. “…who’s everyone?”

Now it’s John’s turn to hesitate, but Dave’s not having it. “John, _who_ is everyone? I thought you said that it’d just be—”

“Karkat,” blurts out John, looking very nervous and small. “Karkat’s here. C’mon, Dave, it’s been like two weeks since your fight—”

It might have been thousands of years since you had last seen one, but this Dave has all the telltale signs that _your_ Dave had before a meltdown. Clenched fists, bobbing adams apple like he can’t swallow properly, gritted teeth—

“Hi!” you say loudly, though you know that you were probably more than loud enough in comparison to the music. “I’m Dirk, you said your name was John?”

John looks at you, startled. You realize that he probably didn’t think you were here with Dave— _you knew that there were a lot of creeps in the world, especially in nightclubs, but you had been literally standing right behind Dave this entire time and John hadn’t said a word—_ but you really didn’t have time for whatever misconceptions he had.

The dorky kid looks back and forth between the two of you with a gaped jaw. Finally, he points dramatically. “Dave! You have a clone!”

_…this guy was an idiot._

Beside you, you hear Dave snort, but he’s undoubtedly still tense from John’s previous news. “Shit, Egbert,” he drawls, accent heavier than normal— _probably from the stress; his past incarnation did the same thing when upset._ “Didn’t realize it. I mean, you’re right! Cool blonde hair, shades, skin as pale as a Twilight vampire all up in this bitch—”

John rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dork,” he complains before waving his hands. “But, really! I didn’t know you had a brother?”

You tense but force yourself to act casual as you shake your head. “Nah,” you say, hoping neither of them heard the strain in your voice. “Just his… housekeeper.”

Blue eyes squint suspiciously at you. “Really?”

You nod, desperate to keep the conversation off of Karkat but knowing that you were basically circling the drain right now. “Yeah, he… uh… gave me the job after saving me from a pretty bad situation.”

John’s nose wrinkles. “How?”

“I… was in the middle of that blizzard—”

“Why?”

For the sake of _Magic_ , didn’t this kid have a filter on uncomfortable questions to ask?  

You fidget, hoping that Dave wasn’t finally seeing how uncool and suspicious you were. “I—”

“For fuck’s sake, Egbert,” interrupts Dave, surprising you with the sudden firmness of his tone. You look over, and see his eyebrows knitted, the way they got when Dave narrowed his eyes and was actually getting angry at someone. “Got to hassle him like that? Yeah, he’s my housekeeper and, yeah, I helped him out but he definitely made up for it. He’s fucking awesome at cooking and actually knows how to clean and is _definitely_ cooler than you—”

“Whoa, whoa!” John holds his hands up in defense, seemingly as surprised as you at Dave’s sudden vehemence. “Sorry, Dave! I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just…”

Dave scowls. “It’s just _what_?”

John hesitates, obviously unsure if he should continue.

Dave opens his mouth, likely to yell some more—

“Found you, coolkid!”

Dave freezes before a hint of a smirk, small but genuine, appears as a young woman with orange hair and bright red glasses parts through the crowd with a walking cane— _she didn’t seem like she needed it, especially in the way she ‘accidentally’ stabbed people in her way with the end part—_ with a few people trailing after her.

Dave looks pleased until he notices a certain wild-haired albino following with the group, what hint of a smile immediately disappearing in the face of the newcomers. You didn’t need an introduction though to know who this was—the hair said it all.

_So… this was Karkat._  

Before anything can be said, the blind girl gets _real_ close to you and then… is she _smelling_ —

She takes a strong whiff before you _swear_ you feel her lick her neck. You stumble back in bewilderment, holding a hand to the spot, as she actually _cackles_. “Calm it, coolkid’s clone! You smell alright!”

“Uh… thanks?” you say after a moment, honestly wondering what the fuck was going on at this point in time. “Soap, it does magical things.”

Dave rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics. “Terezi, don’t lick Dirk.”

“Ooh, is that the name of your mysterious guest?” asks a dark-haired girl with glasses and _very_ green eyes. “C’mon, Dave, introduce us!”

You tense at all the eyes upon you, not sure how you feel about suddenly being the center of attention. You’re starting to wonder if your earlier thoughts of being chased out of the club by people trying to kill you wasn’t that inaccurate.

Dave huffs. “Guys, stop crowding him.” He nods once towards you. “This is Dirk, Dirk Strider. He’s my, uh, housekeeper.”

“He has the same last name?” “When the fuck did you get a housekeeper?”

You tense, unsure who concentrate upon— _the guy with the 3-D glasses or Karkat—_ before deciding that Karkat— _who you kind of wanted to avoid Dave from seeing regardless of the fact you didn’t know what was going on between them—_ was the priority here.

Dave, obviously thought the same, even if he refused to look up at said albino. “Does it fucking matter?”

“Dirk said that Dave found him on the streets,” supplies John ‘helpfully.’ And, what the fuck, they hadn’t said that. You mean, it was true, but it hadn’t been _that_ obvious from yours and Dave’s words had it?

Karkat, however, looks even more pissed at this. “What the fuck!? You found him on the _streets_? How do you know he’s not some sort of axe murder!?”

“Step off it, Vantas,” says Dave, coldly, but Karkat, obviously, either doesn’t see Dave’s growing anger or doesn’t care.

“No, Dave, you’ve done some stupid shit before but this—”

“—is under control!” argues Dave, hands gripping at his sides. “And, in case you didn’t get the memo, you _don’t_ dictate who gets to be in my life!”

Something flashes in Karkat’s eyes, but even you, the Prince of Hearts, can’t decipher it fast enough before the short albino is yelling again.

“Really? That’s has nothing to do with this! Open your fucking goddamn eyes!” Karkat splays his hand at you. “Don’t you see what’s wrong with this picture? He has the same hair, stupid-ass shades, and last _name_? Get rid of him! He’s some sort of fucking creepy stalker—”

“I trust him!” shouts Dave suddenly, causing it to quiet in the group around you. You briefly wonder who else was watching before deciding you didn’t give a fuck. You were here for Dave, and nothing else mattered.

Then, Dave’s words finally hit you and you’re speechless again.

Apparently, so is Karkat, staring at Dave with a gaping mouth before his expression resets, something lingering in his eyes. “ _You_ , Strider?” he asks mockingly, though the tone doesn’t sound right. “ _Trusting_ someone? Yeah, right. You trust _no one_. You’re really going to trust this sketchy guy you’ve known for a few days? Over _us_?”

The _“Over me?”_ was unspoken but loud in clear—at least to you.

There was obviously a story there, but Dave either doesn’t care or sees no point rehashing it out because he responds just as quick, “Yeah? Well maybe I just needed to find someone who actually _deserved_ it. _I_ am the one who let Dirk in—he didn’t just try to _force_ me to care for him.”

The _‘like some people’_ was pretty obvious, even if you couldn’t figure out how it applied to the situation.

But, given the expression on Karkat’s face, the latter knew _exactly_ how Dave meant it. The albino’s mouth snaps shut and the hurt— _and, yes, that was definitely hurt; a raw pain that could only be caused by someone whose opinion you cared about—_ is clear in his eyes even as his expression is full of loathing. “Fuck. You. Strider.” he seethes before turning around, stomping through the crowd and away from your group.

Before you can process what just happened, Dave is pulling your arm and stomping away from the group of his friends— _if… if you could call them that—_ towards the DJs booth. There’s someone already there, bright purple headphones around his neck, who nods to Dave, flips a button, and walks away without another word.

Dave throws his stuff to the ground beside the turntables and begins fiddling with the control center, a deep scowl on his face as you stand next to him awkwardly, wondering what you should do or if you were even allowed to be up here. You really didn’t know what had just happened, really didn’t have the context or proper information, and you weren’t going to patronize Dave by asking if he was okay…

_Well, maybe you were._

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly.

The other blonde snorts, jerking out cords in a way that you knew not to be good for them but not feeling that their wellbeing mattered above Dave’s. “Yeah, real fuckin’ great. Just _love_ to be ambushed by those assholes.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly and Dave tenses, one hand gripping the bottom of the turntables and the other around a portable headset.

He huffs out a breath. “No, fuck, it’s… shit, I never should have brought you. I knew that John was going to be here, and that he’d probably bring Jade or whatever, but I didn’t think that they’d actually bring _Karkat_ —”

“And… it’s a problem he came?” You knew very well it was, but what you didn’t know was _why_? What was Karkat to Dave? And what had happened that made them so at odds?

Dave jerks his head. “Of course! I mean, shit, nightclub’s open to anyone with a fake ID, who am I to stop any random idiot from getting wasted, but Kar… he… _they_ know…”

He breathes out, pressing one hand to his head as if he had a migraine. He seems so… fragile, as if life was trying to rip him apart and all he could do was pretend he had it together. Your heart ached for him… but you didn’t know what you could do.

“Listen,” you say quietly, but still loud enough that Dave could hear you over the pounding music. “I… I just have to know, was it something that _he_ did? Did he… hurt you?”

You didn’t know this Karkat, but had he legitimately hurt Dave in _any_ way shape or form… there was _nothing_ that would stop you from settling the score. After all, you were a supposed to be a dead spirit from thousands of years ago— _what did you have to lose?_

Dave sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Do we have to talk about this?”

You shake your head. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He slumps. “No… the only reason you were in that shitty situation was because I dragged you along. Okay, fuck, you… you already know that I was a foster brat, right?”

You nod slowly, remembering him mentioning that fact when you had woken him from his nightmare. _Had that really just been last night?_

“Well, I’ll skip the hold sob story of being an abandoned baby with no name or parents to be found and skip to the _really_ depressing stuff,” he leans against the turntables, flicking a button and allowing what sounded to be pre-mixed music to play in the club. “I was like… ten or something when I met him.”

He jerks his hand towards the crowd and you follow it, not too surprised to see a certain albino arguing with what appeared to be the dark-haired girl from before by a wall. He was easy to spot, given his hair, but you wonder if Dave had been watching him at the corner of his eyes.

You nod, demonstrating that you were listening.

“It’s actually kind of funny how we met,” despite his words, there wasn’t a smile on his face.

“But I guess that doesn’t matter. We were thick as thieves for years, even ran away whenever they tried to separate us—always were caught by the cops though. Didn’t ever think it’d ever end, but, then, when I was thirteen…”

He trails off and breathes out forcefully. “Basically,” he speaks a bit louder, as if to bring himself out of whatever thoughts had been weighing him down, “a few years go by and I get here to Houston, emancipated, and, what do you know? There’s _Karkat_. And, for, a while, it’s good again, but then he goes and…”

He cuts off, swallowing. Tries to open his mouth again, but it seems whatever words that he wanted to say were also choking him with the effort. You want to tell him to stop, that it’s fine, that you didn’t need to know and you were a fucking asshole for even asking, but, before you can begin to grovel like you should, he speaks again.

“Basically he said shit that doesn’t have any goddamn point!” he forces out, hand squeezing a black cord in his hand. “Like, seriously, why can’t he just be like Terezi? Terezi’s cool. She’s chill. Doesn’t demand to know shit she doesn’t need to know before dropping the _l_ —”

_“Strider!_ ”

Both of you jump. You whirl around, tense, protective of Dave behind you, before realizing that it’s just some overweight man with a scowl but likely harmless by the slow steps he’s taking up to the DJ’s booth. If you were have to guess, it was a manager.

Dave’s face returns to normal and he holds up a hand. “Yo, Mangager-Man,” Huh, you were actually right. “Sorry for the wait, just teaching my assistant about how to make sick beats like this.”

“Assistant?” the manager growls. “Are you trying to get more money from us you greedy, insolent little—”

Something inside of you curls darkly— _a sudden desire to rip apart all the bonds this man’s Soul has—_ but you hold it in, trying to calm yourself as your teeth dig into your lower lip. Dave, however, seems rather unbothered.

“Don’t worry, man,” says Dave as his fingers begin to move quickly on the turntables, changing the automatic tunes to something a lot faster and impressive. “Just pulling your leg. This is just my bro.”

Mad Manager gives you a stink eye before seeming to decide you weren’t worth the time, returning his look back to Dave. “If he breaks _anything_ it’s coming out of your paycheck!” he snaps before waddling back down the stairs.

You want nothing more than to electrocute him with your abilities— _you better believe it hurts like a bitch—_ but stop yourself from chasing after, knowing that Dave likely wouldn’t appreciate you hospitalizing his main source of income. Still, what an _asshole_.

Dave sighs. “Shit, man, this is really turning out to be a terrible night, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine!” you say quickly, turning back towards him. “Really, I’m… glad that you invited me.”

He gives you an obvious ‘ _what the fuck are you smoking?’_ before gesturing towards his turntables. “No, really, it’s been really stupid, so let me show you something not as shitty.”

You curiously go closer to his side as he places his hands against the rotating disks, creating different sounds and waves depending on how he moves them. You’re immediately intrigued. You knew that nightclubs had live music, but you’d never seen it up close like this. It was incredible— _there was no way you were being bias, Dave was awesome in every way._

In the back of your mind, you’re still worried about Dave— _probably always would be—_ and how he had come to be this way, but you decide to drop it at the sight of his relaxing shoulders and grin as he sees your fascinated expression.

“Hold on to your fucking pants, bro, you’re about to hear some _sick beats_.”

o0o0o

And they were, sick that was.

With both of you silently agreeing to drop the heavier topics and to just make music, it turned into a _far_ more enjoyable time. Dave was more than happy to show you how it was done, even letting you spin a few when Mad Manager wasn’t looking.

You’re not sure how long the two of you were up there, just getting lost in the music, but you _do_ notice when Dave’s voice starts to become hoarse from all the talking.

At his cough, you frown, realizing that he didn’t have anything to drink. Why the fuck hadn’t you thought about that before you left? Some helper you were. Before you could say anything, Dave was already speaking:

“Shit, man, sorry for sounding like some sort of crow,” he coughs. “I mean, crows are fucking awesome, but you probably don’t want to just be hearing squawking for the rest of the night.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” you ask, looking around the nightclub. You didn’t exactly have money on you and there was no way you were going to trust something that someone else bought—

Luckily, Dave had you covered. “DJ gets free drinks,” he says, gesturing towards the bar in the middle of the club. “Just tell them it’s for me. If they give you a hassle, just point up here and I’ll wave—that should be as good as giving my fucking birth certificate for them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes before nodding and going down the stairs from the DJs stand. Sliding through the mass of sweaty and hot bodies is as uncomfortable as you knew it would be, but the motivation to get Dave something to drink was stronger than your discomfort so you just put up with it.

After what seemed like forever, you finally get to the bar before hesitating. Dave was seventeen, wasn’t he? You had been in plenty of countries where the drinking age was like thirteen or something, but wasn’t it like 21 in the USA? In fact, how was Dave even working here? Was he working with a fake ID?

Deciding that you had no business wondering, you call over the bartender— _who seems very interested in your shirt for whatever reason; weird—_ and repeat Dave’s order. She doesn’t even ask, only winks and goes away for another customer’s order. You’re… pretty sure that was a yes?

With nothing else to do, you awkwardly wait there, drumming your fingers against the booth before deciding sticky fingers weren’t worth indulging in your nervous twitch.

“So… Dake, was it?”

You glance towards the voice, coming face to face with that dark-haired girl from before. The one with _too green_ eyes. You don’t remember her name… or, actually, had her name ever been said?

“Jade,” she offers, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, Dake.”

“Dirk,” you correct cautiously, wondering why she was talking to you. “You’re… one of Dave’s friends?”

Her smiles saddens but she nods. “Yeah… probably doesn’t seem like it, does it?”

You shrug awkwardly, really not having the desire nor reference to make a claim either way. Dave probably wouldn’t appreciate it if you tried. “I have no clue,” you say honestly. “I’m just here to help Dave.”

She studies you. “Yeah, John said you were his hobo housekeeper?”

You resist the urge to find the dork and shake some sense into him—even though, for all facts and purposes, he was spot on. Still, you shrug. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jade suddenly smiles. “You definitely have the Strider poker face! Dave is such a meanie, always making it difficult to tell what he’s thinking!”

You push down the urge to defend Dave, knowing that it was true. Even you, who had the unfair advantage of knowing his past self inside and out, found this Dave hard to follow at times. “He has his reasons,” you say finally.

Jade nods, lips pursed as glances towards the dirty floor before up again. “Yeah… I mean, John and all of us have always been used to him acting like this since we met him, but Karkat says that Dave wasn’t always this way and then they had some sort of fight a few weeks ago…”

Despite yourself, you feel a sense of pity for the girl in front of you. It was obvious that she was just trying to be a good friend—shame that things were never simple with a Strider involved. Still, you were firmly on Dave’s side—no matter who was at fault.

You look around but fail to see a certain albino. “Where’s that other kid? Karkat, right? Is he okay?”

You knew damn well he wasn’t— _hell, anyone who looked at those eyes after what Dave had said could tell that—_ but you couldn’t help but get anxious at the idea of him trying to have a go at Dave again.

Jade shakes her head to your question. “No, I think he might have gone home.” She sighs. “I really wish that Kanaya was here.”

At your questioning glance— _or, at least as much of one you were able to make with your shades and the dark ambience of the room obscuring most of your face—_ she elaborates, “Kanaya is another friend of ours, but closest to Karkat than anyone else. She hasn’t been able to hang out lately because of issues with her… uh...”

“Friend?” you offer.

“Kinda,” said Jade. “I’m not sure how they met, apparently this other girl is homeschooled with really strict parents or something? what was her name? Some sort of flower? Lily? Violet—” She shook her head, looking at you apologetically before shrugging. “Either way, Kanaya and this girl, I’m going to say Violet, were getting really close and Kanaya has a _huge_ crush on her but something happened a month ago and now Violet’s not talking to Kanaya.”

You nod in what you hope seems like a sympathetic motion. That had been a lot of information about a subject you really had no business knowing about, but it had to be hard for the person you like to not talk to you for a reason you didn’t know.

_You… wonder if that was how Jake felt when you left him before deciding it was ridiculous._

The bartender comes over again to deliver the drinks. You give an appreciative nod towards her— _though she seems disappointed when she sees you with Jade; weird—_ before grabbing the drinks. Dave was probably wondering where you were at.

As you turn around, you see Jade studying you, a strange expression on her face.

You awkwardly wait for her to speak but she just scrunches her brow, as if you held the clue to some sort of monumental discovery that would save someone from life and death. _Where had that come from?_

She speaks, “Wait… you said your name was Dirk. But if your last name is the same as Dave’s, then… do you know someone named—”

**_Tug_ **

Something inside of you lurches, and, before you know it, you’re tuning out Jade’s words and looking towards your right. There’s a hundred people in said direction and you’re not sure what you’re looking for but—

“—and, laike, ah told him was jus’ _stoopid—_ ”

You intake sharply and set the drinks back on the counter, ignoring Jade’s attempts to get your attention— _some sort of phone in her hand—_ as you walk towards the left to where you had heard that voice. A _familiar—_

You’re sliding past people and find yourself more annoyed than ever that they existed. Seriously, what the fuck? Didn’t they know how important this was? Didn’t they know _who—_

“Hehehe— _hiccup!_ No… buuutt they jus’, like, look at me like I’m _crazy—_ ”

‘ _Am I crazy?’_ you wonder as you finally break through the crowd and find yourself on the other side of the bar.

Sitting on one of the many cheap, gaudy stools was a young woman with short, curly blonde hair and skin pale enough to mistaken her for some sort of apparition in the neon lights. Despite the fact that the bar had only been operating for a few hours, she looked like she had spent all night getting wasted, slurring and laughing with a martini glass in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. But that wasn’t what had caught your attention.

That woman… the one getting plastered drunk and spilling her drink all over the counter with no verbal cap on her words…

It was… _your sister._

You intake sharply and her pink eyes land on you.

There was no mistaking it.

**_Roxy._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone see that coming? I mean, nightclub, alcohol, Roxy… yeah. Either way, here you go! The second sibling has arrived! Wonder what issues and problems she’s going to bring along with her? I mean, seriously, Dirk already has his hands full with Dave’s foster home past, fighting with Karkat and friends, and entire living situation. Can he handle much more? 
> 
> Haha, doesn’t matter—I’m still going to put Dirk through it. Still, theories and opinions are ALWAYS appreciated! 
> 
> Please leave a Comments or Kudos to tell me what you think! ^V^


	6. Void Of Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I really loved that everyone got the majority of all the hints and references I was making in the last chapter! It makes my heart burst with happiness that everyone enjoyed it so much! ^V^ 
> 
> WARNINGS: Accidental Incest Themes/Awkward Kiss. Like, seriously, don’t get roaring drunk kids. You could randomly kiss your reincarnated brother and not even know it. 
> 
> No actual incest though. Though, this is complete Canon Accidental-Incest in that, until things are revealed, it’s going to be awkward as heck for poor Dirk (some things never changed XD).

You intake sharply and her pink eyes land on you, but there really is no mistaking it even as you study her features desperately.

**_Roxy._ **

You swallow, feeling your hands tremble at your side as you take a step forward. _How was this possible?_

She stares at you with hazy eyes, so different from the bright and vibrant pink that you barely remembered from so long ago, and, against all reason, raises a finger towards you— _your heart skips a beat--_ before giggling loudly and _falling forward—_

Instinct fuels you as you surge forward, gathering her in your arms before she can fall forward and crash into the disgusting floor of the nightclub. Your heart races as you try to clutch her arms, frozen with her suddenly in your arms. What was wrong? Why did she fall forward? Was she sick? Why wasn’t anyone else reacting? What did you—

Suddenly, a voice whispers near your ear, _“Hic_! You’re… yer… cute!”

You stare at her in disbelief as she— _Roxy_ —erupts into a series of giggles. You feel yourself relax and tense the same time— _if that even made sense._ It wasn’t the first time you had seen someone drunk before, it was just… _this_ was—

“— _Yo_ , DJ-extraordinaire of sick beats and lady killing charms coming through, yeah, buddy, I mean _move_.”

Horror— _and comfort; fuck, nothing was making sense here—_ fills you as you turn to your left to see Dave make his way through the crowd towards you, easily identifiable since he was _Dave_. You’re pretty sure you see Jade as well— _she’d probably gotten him when you went MIA—_ but you really don’t care about that.

Dave finally parts past the last person— _though, it’s more of a shove—_ before pausing at the sight before him.

Sweat drips down your forehead, though it had nothing to do with the heat of the club. You know how this looks. You’re holding a _very_ intoxicated young woman in your arms that you hadn’t come in with before this. You’d seen this scene a dozen times during your extensive bar-hopping the last year. Most of the time it had ended with you punching the person in your exact position, usually easily able to distinguish their impure intentions. Shit, how were you supposed to explain this? And now Dave was going to think you were some sort of _predator_ and _throw you out—_

“That’s our neighbor,” said Dave suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

You stare at him. That… was probably one of the last things you had expected him to say.  “What?”

He nods, hands in his pockets as he tilts his head. The stance is unthreatening as could be. “Yeah, remember when we went shopping?”

…what happened when you went shopping?

_Flashback_

_You intake a breath of air, though it’s dry with the cold tickling your sensitive throat. While it wasn’t snowing anymore, there was a definite chill in the air like the weather really wanted to have another unnatural weather freak-out. Still, it was kind of nice to be outside of the—Dave’s—apartment for the first time in apparently half a week._

_You observe your surroundings, not too surprised to see that you were in some sort of lackluster apartment complex with Dave’s door being the last one in a long line of doors. It was also right next to the balcony of the second floor, next to a long-dried out pool with what appeared to be a popped beach ball at the bottom of the concrete._

_Dave locks the door behind you, though you knew that you could easily pick it with how absolutely rusted and barely functioning it was. You wondered if you could pick up some tools to fix it when you hear a **crash** from the door across from you. Laughter follows it, high-pitched, and **feminine—**_

_Your head whips around and you stare at the door across from you, heart beating fast—definitely a lot more intense than your weakened body could handle right now. What—_

_“Oh, don’t mind that,” said Dave, breaking you from your thoughts as he started walking down the apartment hall. For a moment, you almost don’t follow—_ why? Why wouldn’t you— _but quickly catch up to him even as you gaze back towards the neighbor’s door._

_“Why not?” you ask, wondering if you were still messed up from being beaten to an inch of your life and fever-ridden for three days. Probably._

_Dave shrugs, digging through his pockets for his keys. “That’s normal, especially from that neighbor. Apparently she has some sort of fancy research job but gets raging drunk all the time. No clue why she’s in this dump if that’s true.”_

_You feel your heart pounding but it couldn’t be from the small amount of walking. Or could it? It was completely possible that your body was freaking out from being bedridden for a while… but… still…_

_He glances at you and grimaces. “Sorry, that sounded really shitty, didn’t it? It’s just the type of people who live around here, I guess. Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ve ever met her and I’ve lived here for, like, two years. Definitely worse neighbors.”_

_You slowly nod, but the sick feeling in your gut doesn’t disappear as you follow him down the stairs._

_End Flashback_

You nod, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Then… this is that neighbor?”

Throat goes dry as you see him nod, still-nonchalant as ever. For the first time, you wanted to scream at him. This wasn’t just some ‘ _neighbor_.’ It was your sister, _their sister!_ You knew he didn’t— _couldn’t understand—_ but you wished Dave could have some clue of just how _long_ you’ve wanted, _feared_ , to see all of them again.  

Thankfully, instead of saying all of this out loud like some sort of psychiatric patient, you bite your lip, feeling your front teeth bite into the worn flesh and tasting a familiar metallic taste. “I… I want to take her home.”

_Okay, that definitely didn’t come out like you wanted._

Dave’s eyebrows raised visibly above his shades and you scramble to explain yourself. “No, not like—like _that_. I mean, she’s obviously drunk as fuck, and, I—I don’t want to just _leave her_ here—”

In your arms, Roxy _giggles_ and squirms until she has both arms wrapped around your neck. “Muh… my hero, it’ll _hic…_ be an _adventure!_ ” she coos and you resist the urge to flinch.  

_Flashback_

_“Boo!”_

_You do not jump out of your seat, but perhaps you_ do _tense slightly as you feel arms drape themselves over your shoulder and feel lips press close to your ear, whispering, “Hiya D-Stri.”_

_You roll your eyes, glancing towards the arching glass-stained window positioned on the wall to the left. The moon was high in the sky and you glance back at a certain offender. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Ro-Lal?” you drawl, giving your sister a raised eyebrow._

_High Princess Roxanne, or Roxy as she was called in your group of siblings, giggled and flicked you on the nose, leaning over to look at the tools you were fiddling around with. You were trying to mix your abilities with technology. You’re not quite sure what you were trying to make or how it would turn out, but it was better than lying awake in your bed and staring at the carvings on the ceiling._

_“I could say the same for you!” she pouts, snuggling closer. “Why aren’t **you** sleeping?”_

_“I can sleep when I’m dead,” you deadpan, though you know that you can’t hide anything from her—never could from your twin._

_She rolls her eyes, seeing through your ‘ridiculousness.’ “Not funny, Dirk.”_

_“Never am,” you pick up a tool, long with a pronged end, but it suddenly disappears into thin air, leaving you looking like an idiot with a half-opened hand. You scowl, rolling your eyes even as you keep your hand in the air. “Very mature, Roxy.”_

_“Always am,” she taunts, completely unrepentant that she had put Nothing into your tool; yeah, you weren’t going to get that back anytime soon, were you? “But, seriously, Dirk, since neither of us can sleep, why don’t we go have fun?”_

_You know you’ll cave—you always did, couldn’t help it with your siblings—but you just smirk and lean back in your chair, ignoring the ache in your back from sitting in this position for hours. “It’s that an order from the almighty High Princess Roxanne, the illustrious Rogue of the Void?”_

_She nods, completely serious. “Of course, I have foreseen—”_

_“—Rose is the Seer, I just said you were a Rogue—”_

_“—oh hush, I have **foreseen** you helping me collect some pumpkins!” _

_You groan. You know she’s not talking about the pumpkins in the royal gardens—after you had become ruler and remolded everything, the pumpkins in the garden were one thing you both had been adamant on keeping because of… reasons—but, rather, the ones in the Eldritch Forest._

_They had insanely useful properties if you managed to find the black and sparkly, purple-goop filled gourds, but there was a reason that you had literally forbidden your own subjects from going into the forest unless they were of high and competent magic level. It was very dangerous. Of course, the two of you were more than capable, had been going in there since you were children, but it was still a pain in the ass with high risk, especially at night._

_Still, you could never deny your family anything…_

_“Is it too late to go back to sleep?” you mutter but give in as Roxy tugs you to your feet, brushing imaginary dust from your robes as she rolls her eyes._

_“C’mon!” she pecks you on the cheek before opening the window—since stairs were apparently for chumps. “It’ll be an adventure!”_

End Flashback

You swallow, emotion welling up in your throat. “Please,” you say to Dave, knowing that you were pleading now and probably sounded even more like a _creepy rapist_. “I swear, I’m not going to… do anything—” _Oh, Magic, that was so, so, so, so, so wrong, she was your **sister**! “—_ but I just want to make sure she gets home and—”

“Sure, man.”

You pause, blinking before looking at Dave fully. “Wait, what?”

Dave tilts his head, still that picture of calm. “Uh, I guess I can see why you’re thinking that someone would find this weird, but I literally just said an hour ago that I trust you so whatever you think is best, bro. I’ll see you when I’m done preaching the almighty Strider beats here. You good to take her car or whatever? Or, er, is that rude? I guess I can borrow mine and I can, like, walk back—”

“T-that’s fine,” you finally manage, new emotions welling up with the already existing ones and closing your throat off even as you try to speak clearly. “I… I’ll find her car.”

He gives you a thumbs up before turning around to dive back into the crowd, likely returning to the booth. You hope the asshole manager didn’t give him shit for this but you’re admittedly distracted with a suddenly very squirmy blonde in your arms.

“Omg, _hic_ ,” she blinks and you unconsciously move her hair from her eyes, walking mechanically towards the exit. No one stops you, and you’re not sure if that comforts you or not. “We… we’re going to has… have… ur house party? _Yay!_ ”

She wiggles her arms, like she wanted to wave them around, but instead cuffs you in the side of the head. You wince, sighing and pulling one of the flailing arms around your neck, hoping that it would steady her a bit more. “Not… really,” you say carefully. “I… uh… not sure how much you heard, but I’m your neighbor, or at least temporarily, and I’m just trying to get you home safely.”

“ _Hic hehehehe_ , house party!” She waves her hands in the air again, once again smacking you and messing up your shades. “Jke… Juke... be… _so, hic,_ jelous…”

You sigh, wondering what she was even speaking about before walking out the front doors of the club.  

The outside chills as your bare arms— _you didn’t blame Dave for not having winter clothing in Houston, Texas in March; but you couldn’t help but worry that he would get sick—_ raise with goosebumps. Instinctively, you press Roxy closer to you, eyeing her thin, flashy attire and hoping that she wouldn’t get sick either.

As you pass the bouncer and mile-long line of waiting patrons on your way to the parking lot, no one gives you a second-glance. You really didn’t want to feel bitter towards them, but you couldn’t help but imagine Roxy— _if that was even her name in this life; Dave having the samae name was probably a coincidence… even if his last name was the same too—_ in this situation but with someone less… related than you. The thought _burns_ you on the inside and you grit your teeth.  

Pausing at the first row of cars, you wonder for the first time how Roxy had gotten here. You had assumed that she had brought a car, but she could have very well walked or taken a bus—

“ _Hic,_ aw… are we look… lookin’ for Mutie?” she slurs, wiggling against you.

“Who’s… Mutie?” you ask warily, trying to steady her squirminess. Like, you understood how your name was apparently odd for this day and time, but what type of name was _Mutie_?

She surges forward, now pulling _you_ as she waves her finger wildly towards a light pole in the second row. “Mutie!” she exclaims. “The bus… _best_ car in… deh world!”

Your eyes widen in understanding as you see what appeared to be a small _pink_ car. You sigh, gently tugging Roxy back on your shoulder as you head towards the vehicle, already knowing that, out of all the cars in the parking lot, that _literally_ was the only one it could be. And she had named it _Mutie_?

Roxy is being difficult again, squirming and babbling about something you can barely comprehend through the slurring and excitement. You’re almost grateful for the chatter, not knowing what to say if she had been sober— _at least with Dave you had the entire day in his apartment to figure out how to handle the situation—_ and stop before the obnoxiously pink vehicle.

You hesitate, eyeing her again. She didn’t appear to have a purse— _oh, shit, did she just not have one or had you forgotten it in the club?—_ but you obviously weren’t going to search her pockets without permission. A thousand years ago, yes, but it was rather obvious that things weren’t as they once were.

“Hey,” you ask, glancing at her face-to-face to make sure she could hear you, “do you—”

Before you know what’s happening, you feel something _wet_ press against your lips. You freeze, staring down in _horror_ as you watch your _reincarnated sister kiss you._

_What. The. **Fuck?**_

It’s horrifying— _did you mention that? Well, obviously you hadn’t mentioned it enough—_ and she’s not really ‘kissing’ you, more like licking at the spot below your nose where a mustache would never grow— _it’s a shame, you’d probably look awesome—_ before releasing and letting out another stream of giggles as you just _stare_.

You try not to feel too weirded out, but, still, _what the hell?_ Had she _really_ just kissed you? Her brother? Well, no, she didn’t know but _still!_ Oh, _Magic_ , this was mortifying. If she ever got her memories back, you were going to hold this over her head _forever_. If this was even the Roxy that you thought it was—

_Fuck it._

Unable to take it anymore, you gather up your powers and _peer_ into her Soul. If she was sober, she’d probably wonder why you’re staring intensely into her eyes without moving, but, well, _you’d had just about enough_ and just _look:_

_…at first, you feel nothing, but, instead of getting concerned, you relax and let what wants to reveal itself come naturally. After all, those with the **Void** valued the mystery and unexplained. What seemed to be empty for everyone else was, instead, just endless potential for those with this aspect. A constant swirling mist of confusion full of mystery… though it was… **unbalanced** … the negative side of the spectrum of the **Void** seeming to consumer her from the inside out… _

_You looked further, searching for her Class. Generally, that was the first thing to appear, but those with **Void** rarely followed the understood concepts of anything…_

_… **there** … a sense of mischief yet passiveness… a desire to help but to do it one’s own way… surely she was also a **Rogue** … and yet, even there, you could feel the indecisiveness, the loneliness, the insecurity that was **tearing her apart—**_

“A’m…. going ta… be sick.”

That’s the only warning you have before you feel Roxy— _her physical self—_ shift in front of you and throw up all over your shoes. You grimace, head reeling from suddenly being pulled back from a Soul-link, but hold her hair back and rub her back as she throws up.

_There was no denying it—this was **exactly** who you thought it was. _

When Roxy is finished throwing up— _you avoid looking at your shoes, hoping Dave wouldn’t mind if you cleaned and let them dry in the bathroom—_ and steady her as she sways, your movements as gentle as possible.

“Hey,” you say, still unsure of her name and not willing to get questions in case you were wrong. “Do you… have your keys? I’ll drive you home now.”

She wipes the back of her mouth before giggling holding out her hands as if to show there was nothing there. You sigh, eyeing the atrociously pink vehicle. Perhaps you could hotwire it—

“Hey, _hesh!_ ”

You glance back at her and blink, seeing a pink key— _of course—_ with a cat-keychain hooked on to it in her hands. That… hadn’t been there before, had it? Had she reached into her pocket? No, you would have seen that…

Unsettled, but not sure why, you take the keys and unlock the car. You walk her over to the passenger side, careful to avoid the ice and less than savory puddle by the driver’s side door. She grumbles slightly when you buckle her in before staring up another storm of less-than-intelligible conversation.

You sigh, shutting the door before going over to the driver’s side. You get in and start the engine, looking all around behind the vehicle before backing up and slowly getting onto the icy road. Your stomach is in knots— _especially since you had used your powers; though it was starting to come more naturally—_ and you’re ready to call it a night but there’s this feeling that this was just the start of your troubles. You hoped you were just being paranoid…

_Had you listened a bit more closely to those feelings, perhaps you would have noticed the man standing at the edge of the nightclub’s parking lot. Phone clutched in hands and emerald-eyes full of unreadable emotion._

o0o0o

“Sno… hwe, _hic¸_ yer huse… house d’or mine, Dirk?”

Going down the streets of Houston, Texas towards Dave’s apartment complex, you had been a bit more focused on driving safely— _you hadn’t done it much, and the snow made things a lot more slick, but you’d beaten Dave at Mario Kart so it couldn’t be that difficult—_ than listening to her rambles, but _that_ made you straighten up and stare at her.

She giggles, banging her hand on the dash as if something was hilarious. “Uh…eyes on zer road!”

Your eyes return to the road but your hands clench around the steering wheel. How did she know your name? Had Dave said it? Of course, that… had to be it. He must have said it and she overheard— _you were obviously too distracted to notice something that small—_ which is why she knew it. But it still sent you _reeling_ to hear it from her lips.

“So…” you search for a topic, unable to stand this awkwardness anymore. “Sorry, I just kidnapped you, didn’t I? I didn’t even ask if there was… someone at the club or something.”

It’s only because you’re watching her at the corner of your eyes that you see her shoulders wilt—but just for a second. “N-nah, I’m a one womarn army!” she declares triumphantly and you snort.

“Of course,” you agree, fondness staring to form despite the strangeness of the evening.

She laughs, hiccupping again. “Yer… yer _rrrrr—eally_ nice, Dirk,” she drawls.

“Not really,” you admit honestly. “You’re just… special.”

_Oh, fuck, please don’t take that as a pick-up line._

To your surprise, her face falls and she leans back into her seat, biting her lip and looking ready to cry. Alarmed at the sudden change, you open your mouth, but she beats you to it.

“No,” she says, so quiet that you have to strain your ears to hear her. “I’m… _hic_ … n-not special.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, honestly bewildered. While this might not exactly be your sister, you had no doubt that she was extraordinary in every sense. And hadn’t Dave said that she was some sort of researcher? Roxy didn’t look much older than twenty, and even you knew that was rather impressive. “Hey—”

“Ah’m not special,” she whispered again. To your alarm, there are now _tears_ in her eyes. “I’m a… _hic_ wreck. I’m _hic_ surry… _sorry_. I know… I know I’m, _hic_ , always causing problems—”

“No,” you say firmly, resisting the urge to look at her; you had to keep your eyes on the road, but you desperately wanted her to stop saying that. “Don’t… don’t say that. I just met you, but I can already tell you’re an incredible person.”

“You’re just, _hic_ , saying that!” she yells, her words alarmingly clear—as if she had practice in saying these exact words. “Everyone’sss always so niice and funn’ when you first meet and then _WHAM!_ ”

She slams her hands together, as if clapping. “Zere gone! Even if I b-beg and c-cry, dey always go!”

She sniffs pitifully, tears running freely down her face. “Ah… Ah know I’m d- _dumb_ anad c-clingy and d-disturb… _deserve_ it but I durn’t like… I don’t l-like being _alone—_ ”

“ _Roxy_!”

She falls silent. It takes you a moment to realize that you said her name— _or what may not be her name; fuck—_ but anything was better than hearing her say that. You had seen some insecurity issues while looking at her Soul, but this… you couldn’t take it. _Fuck being logical._

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself. “No,” you say firmly. “That’s not true. Listen, you probably won’t remember this tomorrow, but I want to know that you’re an amazing person full of more love and generosity than 99.9% of _anyone_ else in the world—and, even then, you got that top 0.1% beat. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, ask anyone, I’m a blunt asshole, so you can… you can trust that I’m saying what I honestly believe.”

She’s silent for a moment and you berate yourself for yelling. Even without screaming what may or may not be her name like some sort of weird, aggressive stalker, what right did you have to berate her like this? Great, now she was terrified and about to call the police—

 “How… how can you tell?” she asks quietly bringing you from your thoughts.

You swallow, but your throat tickles unpleasantly at the sensation. “I… I just can,” you finish lamely; after all, even if you hadn’t known her incarnate, how could you tell her that you could see Souls? “But, please, believe me, Roxy. You’re an _amazing_ person. Even if we never talk again, that’ll never change.”

You risk a glance towards her. Her face is a splotchy red— _the price of getting upset when your skin was so pale, as you knew—_ and there are tear tracks running down her face, but it appears that she’s no longer crying. Instead, she snuggles closer into the leather seats and gives a small, barely visible nod and you relax.

Inwardly sighing, you return your gaze to the icy roads. There was no doubt that you had been out of line with what you said, and, should she sober up and remember any part of this, would undoubtedly think you’re a creep, but… you couldn’t _stand_ hearing her talk about herself that way. Not just because she was your reincarnated sister, but because she was _Roxy_ —or at least her soul was.

You knew it was unfair to compare them, but there were so many similarities that you could already see between the two that it was hard not to. Particularly the non-stop talking and forced smiles when upset.

Your childhood all those thousand of years ago hadn’t… been easy— _overthrowing your tyrannical father and taking the throne at twelve wasn’t exactly cheery; but that was another story—_ so your Roxy, while not as depressed as this one, had her moment as well where she needed the emotional support of you, Dave, and Rose. The three of you had been happy to give it, but it was obvious that this Roxy didn’t have anyone. Or, at least, no one around right now.

The upset in this Roxy also seemed to go so _deep_ — _you hadn’t been able to look at her Soulbonds, but you knew a fragile soul when you felt one—_ and you didn’t need to see any more of her Soul to tell that this drinking— _which definitely sounded like a regular thing—_ was her escape.

Your lips press together as you think about her words, what they had hinted towards. Another thing about Roxy was that she _cared_ —a bit too much in fact. Was probably something that would stay consistent for as long as time existed. But that care… it could, and had, been used against her in so many ways. Back in Derse, the three of you had been able to watch out for each other’s more obvious weaknesses, but… who did this Roxy have? You didn’t want to look at invade her privacy— _any more than you already had—_ but you perhaps you should look to see any positive Soulb—

 _You_ _reacted_ , instinct more than thought guiding you before your mind could comprehend what was wrong as you turned the wheel _sharply to the **right**_ —

_SSSSCCCRREEEECCCCHHH_

Bright lights filled your eyes and something goes _WHOOOSHING_ past, your heartrate hitting the _roof_ as the car loses traction of the icy roads and is spinning and _spinning—_

You grip the wheel, trying to physically force it to listen to your commands but unable to do much more than ride out the _momentum—_

It lasts _forever_ — _it ends so soon—_ and, before you know it, the spinning motion has stopped and, looking out the front window reveals that you’re now parked diagonally down the abandoned street you had previously been going through. Your eyes lurch to the rearview mirror and you see what appears to be some sort of purple drunk now a few hundred feet away, still _driving in the wrong lane._

Your heart _pounds_ in your chest— _holy shit, did that just happen?—_ and your eyes immediately go to Roxy, hoping, _praying_ , that she’s alright—

…and she’s _asleep_ , drooling on the seat and completely unaware of the fact that you had almost been in a horrific car accident. She doesn’t even _know_ that you had almost killed you both…

Even at the sight of her safety, you can’t stop the terror welling up now that you’re no longer in immediate danger.

You had almost killed her. 

_You had almost killed **Roxy**. _

What the fuck was _wrong_ with you? Wasn't it enough that you somehow ruined their lives thousands of years ago? No, apparently it _wasn't,_ apparently you had to just barrel into their reincarnated selves and almost get them  _killed!_ Ever since you had remembered them, you had wanted to see them, wanted to  _be with them **so badly.**_ And what do you do? Almost  _ruin **everything** \--_

Quick breaths reach your ears and you realize you’re hyperventilating. You press sweaty palms to your face, trying to calm down, to prevent what you knew what was coming next, but y-you just can’t, you… you _can’t breathe—_

 _“—Dirk, can you hear me? You’re having what’s called a ‘panic attack.’_ ”

Your eyes fly open and you look around wildly, but no one’s there. Fuck, now you’re hallucinating. Or… not hallucinating, but _remembering_. The first time you had ever gotten a panic attack in this life. He… _Jake had—_

_“Listen, uh, it’s going to be okay. Just breathe with me.”_

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you’re unable to do anything but give into the memories— _as you always did, because you were **weak** —_and bring up to remember how _he_ had looked at the time, how he had _breathed_ —

_“Shh, it’s okay. I got you. Breathe in…”_

You try to breathe in halfway, but you’re now coughing. You try to quiet yourself, unwilling to wake Roxy, but it’s so _hard._

 _“I know it’s painful_ ,” you can almost remember his hands, warm and comforting, pressed soothing upon your back and just _there,_ _“but, trust me, this will work if we both try hard, alright? And no one tries as hard as you do, Treasure, I **believe** you can do it. Breathe in…”_

You breathe in…

_“And breathe out…”_

You breathe out, sniffling and coughing, but it’s better than before.

Like that first panic attack all that time ago— _two years—_ it seems to take an eternity before the haze in your head calms and the shakiness of your limbs goes down. The exhaustion remains as you open your eyes, but you’re more than used to feeling that.

You rest your head against the back of the seat, cursing yourself in every way possible as you try to process what had just happened. You were driving. Some guy was going way over the speed limit in the wrong lane— _drunk or because of the slickness of the roads you didn’t know—_ and nearly hit Roxy’s car. You barely swerved out of the way in time but lost control of the car due to the lost traction. When the spinning finally stopped, and you saw that Roxy was fine, you had a panic attack. So serious of one that you retreated back into your memories of _Jake_ helping you through the first one you’d ever had.

Resolution?

_You’re a delusional piece of shit who almost got his reincarnated sister killed, had a panic attack immediately after, and, like the pathetic weakling you were, went back to the memories of someone you swore to leave alone for comfort._

_Fucking_. _Great._

You press your lips together, shakily placing your left hand back on the steering wheel while turning the key with the other, sweat making it difficult to turn the metal at first. It starts— _if it hadn’t you’d have to add that on to your never-ending list of screw-ups and perfectly good things that you inevitably ruined._

Swallowing, you glance backwards towards where the purple truck had long since disappeared before getting back on the road, fingers white with how hard you were gripping the steering wheel.

You’d had enough for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shoot, that was intense. Dang, Dirk’s just can’t catch a break? I mean, I suppose car accidents happen every sixty seconds and, because of Dirk’s greatly underappreciated reflexes, they narrowly avoided one but… still… what bad luck, huh? 
> 
> And, welcome Roxy! As you can see… Roxy has quite a few issues of her own to add to the pot (and, man, this is just a taste; and wait till we get to Rose). Also, quite a few secrets that Dirk will be interested to learn eventually. After all, did Dave ever say Dirk’s name around Roxy…? 
> 
> BTW: References to ‘Worth It’s Weight in Gold’ which is Part 8 of the series and ‘I’d Pay Anything to Breathe’ which is Part 5. The first contains the references to Roxy being Dave’s neighbor while the latter is where Dirk has his first panic attack. Dirk is much better with handling his attacks at this point in time, but the risk to Roxy and the stress of the past few days really pushed him over the edge. Whenever he gets that bad, he always uses the memory of Jake helping him for comfort—even if he feels horrible doing it cause he’s a silly self-sacrificing child. 
> 
> Also, as a note, completely forgot, here are the most important ages:  
> Dirk: 21 (he was 19 when he was sealed away and it’s been two years since so he’s aging normally again)  
> Roxy/Jake/Jane: 21  
> Dave/Rose/Alpha Human-Trolls/Beta Kids: 17 
> 
> Anyway, please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think about this latest chapter! 
> 
> Oh, and who was that emerald eyed man in the parking lot? Hope he didn’t see anything that could be easily… misunderstood or anything… Hmm… ^V^


	7. Cinnamon And Other Rare Spices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this chapter didn’t exactly go as planned--some family fluff snuck into its way in. *shrug*
> 
> WARNINGS: Accidental Incest Themes/Awkwardness; References to Past Drunk Dubious Sexual Consent/Non-Con (but no actual)

_Roxy held up a glittering black pumpkin up to your face, smiling cheekily despite the already darkening bruise on her cheek and messy state of her hair._

_“I told you!” she said triumphantly. “When we Strilondes team up, there’s nothing we can’t do!”_

_You smile and open your mouth—_

Your eyes snap open and you lurch upwards, hand raised to try and take the pumpkin until you realize… it had just been a dream— _or, memory, but what did it matter?_ Breathing heavily, you press a tired hand to your face and glance around your surroundings, mentally confirming that you were back in Roxy’s apartment… not Derse.

Sighing, you slouch in your chair, leaning it back to so that the back pressed against the wall beside Roxy’s bedroom door as you looked around the room, trying to distract yourself from the dream and feeling of loneliness welling up inside. The apartment’s layout was almost identical to Dave’s, but with nicer furniture— _if you could ignore the beer bottles and random research players about various topics scattered everywhere—_ and expensive electronics.

You might still be getting used to the modern era-- _well, at the very least you weren’t freaking out because of bathtubs and microwaves anymore—_ but even you knew that some of the things that Roxy had casually laying around were pretty pricey. It must have been that ‘research’ job that Dave had spoken about, which would also explain all the papers.

Stretching, your clothes— _Dave’s clothes, since you were a worthless, mooching hobo—_ stretched along with you, already rumpled from sleeping in a chair all night and smelling like booze and tequila. Popping the joints in your shoulder, you glance towards the bedroom door, partially opened like you left it last night. When you had brought Roxy back to her apartment, she had still been _very_ drunk— _and the less said about her actions, the better—_ so you hadn’t felt comfortable with just leaving her alone.

It was probably less from the fear she would accidentally choke in her sleep— _after all, she almost seemed to be a veteran drinker with the amount of alcohol around the apartment—_ and more from the selfish _need_ to make sure she was… _real_. You’d already confirmed that it was her Soul, Roxy’s Soul, but… a part of you just needed to make sure she would be okay, that she was actually there, creepy stalker vibes be damned.

So, after tucking her in, you'd gone over to Dave’s apartment to leave a note and put his dinner in the microwave to be heated up when he got home in an hour or so. Afterwards, you had returned to Roxy’s apartment just in time to hear her throwing up in the bathroom.

That had… been unpleasant.

_Flashback_

_You close the apartment behind you as the sound of retching reaches your ears. Probably a bit more quickly than needed, you cross the wood floor, careful to dodge the various items laying about, and stop before the bathroom door where you hear the sound originating from._

_You hesitate, wondering if you should even be here. After all, you didn’t like people to see you at your worse, so why should she? Still… you didn’t want to just leave her to suffer alone. Especially since you knew that Roxy, no matter what time, **hated** being alone. _

_Tentatively, you knock, knuckles softly rapping against the wood. “Hey, Roxy?”_

_Immediately after the name slips past your lips, you curse before giving it up for a lost cause. If she didn’t have the same name in this life, you could just say she looked like someone you knew… which was technically correct._

_The retching stops and you hear a low moan._

_Concerned, you push open the bathroom door. It was dark, since you had yet to turn any lights on and it was way past midnight, but you could see a familiar silhouette leaning over the toilet bowl._

_She looks at you, obviously miserable with hair sticking to her face._

_Obviously, you hadn’t thought this through, but keep speaking anyway. “Do you need anything?” you ask, keeping your voice soft since you knew she had to have a headache. “I can get you some water or hold your hair back for you?”_

_She studies you—and then turns back to the toilet bowl, retching again into the porcelain throne. Before you can stop yourself, you walk forward, kneeling on the bathroom tile and pushing her hair back out of her face. It smells terrible, but you’d been living on the streets for a year so this was nothing._

_Roxy continues to throw up for a good few minutes but you just hold her hair back and, after a moment of indecision, softly rub circles in her back, like you had done for Dave when he had his nightmare. It was ironic that the Strilondes, who had sometimes been viewed as emotionless statues back in Derse, were so affected by touch, but you weren’t going to deny comfort to your siblings if you could give it. Roxy had been the most physically affectionate of the four of them, so you hoped that you were bringing her some comfort._

_After a few moments of hearing nothing, you reach up to grab down a towel from the sink and softly wipe the sweat and vomit from her face. She groans, leaning against you. You still, before placing your arms around her, continuing to rub her back._

_“Feeling better?” you ask, wondering if you should get her water now or if her stomach would just reject it. Your memories of Derse weren’t good enough to remember how you dealt with hangovers and you’d avoided drunk individuals in the modern era as much as you could... if you didn’t include all the bars you’d been to in the past year. “Do you want some water now?”_

_She shakes her head and you hesitate, wondering if you should insist, before deciding she probably knew better. “Do you want to lie down?”_

_Roxy nods into your shoulder and you slowly stand up, careful not to jostle her and watching her for any signs of wanting to throw up again. She seems fine, rather docile as you lead her into the bedroom and gently tuck her in on her side again._

_After pulling the silk pink covers over her body, you stand—but her hand reaches out, tightly clutching your shirt once she got a grip._

_You look down at her, seeing her pink eyes stare back hazily, obviously on the verge of sleep but refusing to give in for some reason. “Yer… yer… going?”_

_You hesitate, wondering what you should do, before giving in like the weak person you were. “I’ll be right outside the door,” you answer quietly. “If you need me, just call.”_

_She seems to be confused, looking at you unfocused before seeming to realize something. Her grip loosens and her arm falls to the side of the bed as her eyes finally close. You reach down and to put her arm back on the bed before pausing._

_On the floor is what looked to be a **really** ugly cat with pink-button eyes, pink bow, and pink polka-dotted dress. Touching it, it’s fluffy and cuddly—exactly the type of thing that Roxy would own. _

_You gently place it on her chest and then her arm around it. Predictably, she snuggles closer to the plush animal, a hint of a content smile on her face as she continues to doze._

_Sighing—it had been a very long night—you get up and leave the room to look for a chair to place by her door. You had a feeling that you weren’t going to get much sleep tonight…_

_End Flashback_

Looking back… you couldn’t help but wonder if she had thought you were going to _sleep_ with her. It was horrifying to think about, not just because she. _Was_. _Your_. _Sister_ , but also because it was _highly_ likely that others had… taken advantage of her in that state— _you didn’t care what any idiot at a bar said, if someone was drunk, they couldn’t consent…which you were well aware of—_ like you knew many assholes would.

You had the sudden urge to hunt down every last person who had even _looked_ at Roxy— _in both lives—_ but push it down, trying to remind yourself that this Roxy was a grown adult who had no idea who you were. You had no right to judge her choices or the things she did in her free time… even if you couldn’t help but disapprove.

Sighing, you crack your neck before hearing movement from inside the bedroom—the sound of rustling bedsheets and padded footsteps. Heart rate increasing, you debate whether or not you should abscond while you still had the chance. After all, she was obviously awake now, so you had done your duty as her somewhat reincarnated brother of watching over her and making sure she was safe. There was no reason to linger like textbook definition and embodiment of stranger danger. Also, Dave was probably going to wake up soon for breakfast, and you hadn’t even started—

The bedroom door opens and Roxy’s head peeks out before looking at you. You freeze, wondering what she was going to do— _please don’t call the cops, please don’t call the cops—_ before her face lights up.

“Oh! You’re still here!” _Wait, still here? Oh, shit, what did she remember?_ “Yay! Wait right there!”

The door slams again and you hear what sounds like cabinets being opened and closed rapidly. You should _really_ leave now, but you couldn’t help but stay rooted to the chair, wondering for the first time what she remembered. Not like you wanted her to be a blackout drunk, but some of the things you had said last night…

The bedroom door opens again before you can decide your next course of action, Roxy dressed in white and pink sweater with a pink cat as the logo, black skirt, and purple leggings. You blink, wondering how she could dress so fast.

“Hi!” she says cheerfully. “It’s Dirk, right?”

“…Right,” you say carefully. If you’re a bit tense, who could blame you? Not every day you met your reincarnated sister… _literally_ since it’d been thousands of years. “You… remember me?”

She bobs her head, migraine from last night obviously long gone. “Yeah! I always remember _everything_ from when I’m drunk!”

You pale even as you try to maintain your expression, a trickle of fear going down your spine. She remembered _everything_? Fuck.

You return from your thoughts as you see her still staring at you, apparently content to just look at you. Which was weird, because she seemed to be a non-stop talker in every life, but you took it as a plus that she wasn’t asking you any obvious or uncomfortable questions.

“I… I’m glad that you’re feeling better,” you continue, in that same cautious tone, having no clue where to go with this. It was like talking to Dave for the first time all over again—though, considering the circumstances, you shouldn’t be that surprised at the similarities.

If possible, her smile seems to brighten even more. “Yeah! Thanks to you!”

You fidget awkwardly. “I didn’t really do anything—”

“Yes, you did,” she insists. “Such a gentleman! Bringing me home from the bar and taking me to bed without any other _ulterior_ motives.”

She winks and, even though you know— _fuck, you hope—_ she’s just kidding, you can’t help your stomach churn at the thought. _She was your sister!_ Still, you do recall your Roxy being rather… bold and shamelessly flirtatious back in Derse— _difference was, she was **aware** at the time that you were her brother and just messing you while this one… was not—_ so you supposed you would just have to put up with it.

“Yeah,” you say, for lack of a better response, before glancing around and standing, seeming to surprise her given the way her eyes widen. “Well, uh, since you’re alright, I’m probably going to go back—”

“To Dave’s apartment?” she asks quickly, glancing towards the living room door before smiling again, though it seems a bit… peculiar. “That’s right! You live next door with him now, right?”

You nod, thankful for the familiar topic. “Yeah, I’m his… housekeeper.”

Why not? That’s how you had introduced yourself to Dave’s friends last night— _if… friends was the right word; it definitely seemed that they were trying, even if Dave wasn’t exactly being… receptive—_ so you might as well resign yourself to the term, as uncool as it sounded.

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens comically. “Ooh, so that means you’re going over to make him breakfast now?”

You blink beneath your shades before nodding. “Yeah, actually, how’d you know?”

She claps her hands together, suddenly very excited. “I have just the stuff!” she exclaimed, tugging on your shirt and leading you towards her door, opening it quickly and pushing you out without warning. She grins broadly at you as you stare incredulously. “You get started and I’ll be over in a few minutes, okay?”

Before you can answer— _do anything really—_ the door slams closed and you’re left standing there in the hallway of the apartment, still reeling from the sudden, bewildering line of events.

…had Roxy just invited herself to breakfast?

o0o0o

Unable to process what had just happened, you put yourself to work cooking breakfast, going into the kitchen— _after checking that, yes, Dave was still asleep in his bedroom—_ and beginning to pull out ingredients from their various places. You’re unsure what Roxy was… going to bring over, but you hope that she liked omelets, toast, and bacon. Given your budget, that was about the best you could do, and you’d happily give her your portion since it wasn’t fair to Dave.  

It’s while the bacon is sizzling that you hear the door to Dave’s bedroom open and the familiar sound of feet against the wood as he made the journey to the bathroom. Now that you were actively looking for his presence, you noticed that you could also easily sense his Soul— _a bright red, the Knight of Time—_ in a way that you realized you had been unconsciously doing since you met him, but had somehow never noticed.

Thinking of Souls…

You flip the bacon, thinking back to last night how you had met Roxy. You had been talking to Jade when you had just stopped mid-sentence, somehow finding your way to Roxy despite having not seen her through the crowd of people. Now that it had happened twice, that _Tug_ sensation, you realize that something in you must have sensed their Souls nearby— _you remember subtly feeling like that next to Roxy’s door when going shopping, which explained why you had been so reluctant to follow Dave down the stairs—_ and your classpect, as the Prince of Hearts, must have responded accordingly.

Thinking on it, you realize that you had felt like that in Derse too, though not as… overt as that tugging sensation. Which made sense since, as the eldest, you had literally been with your siblings since they were born and, as a result, was familiar with their presence. There was also the fact that, at one time, your Souls had been more intertwined too than normal Souls— _not just because of your connection as family, but because the four of you had regularly combined your powers together which only made you more co-dependent on one another—_ but the fact that a part of you could still identify them after thousands of years… it made you feel fragile, small, yet relieved that you could.

It… also made you wonder about Rose, or, as she was known in Derse, _Princess Rosaline, the Seer of Light_. Now that it had happened twice, and so close to one another— _you had met Dave, what? A week ago? You’d been wandering around for two years now since being freed, but you meet Dave and Roxy within a week? It couldn’t be a coincidence—_ you wonder if— _hope—_ that means you will also meet a reincarnated Rose. It seemed… so impossible, but you couldn’t deny the ‘random occurrences’ piling up in front of you.

Still, it made you uneasy. What were the odds that you would meet your reincarnated siblings thousands of years after whatever happened to Derse? And with them looking to be the same age as you recalled them being? Was it just good luck— _ha, funny—_ or was there… something else going on?”

“Hey, bro, you… okay? I think something’s burning.”

Blinking from your thoughts, you quickly turn over the sizzling bacon— _it’s a bit well-done, but not burned, thank Magic—_ before glancing over at Dave who is dressed in a long, worn t-shirt and suits-patterned boxers; the picture of refinement and prestige as he always was before noon struck.

“Hey, Dave,” you say, ignoring your near snafu. “Did you find your dinner alright last night?”

He eyes you— _and you can actually see those ruby-red eyes; he’s not wearing his shades which seems odd for a reason you couldn’t name—_ before nodding, pulling out a chair from the table and lounging on it. “Yeah, was fucking awesome. You really know how to use those spices. Were you a culinary chef in another life or something?”

_‘No, a failed Prince of Hearts who somehow lead his kingdom to ruin and then a trapped, treasure-granting spirit for thousands of years,’_ you think mentally, before shaking your head. “Nah, it’s just practice and experimentation. And recipes. Reading _lots_ of recipes.”

He yawns, covering only half of his mouth with spread fingers. “Shit, man, wish I could be that good, but I burn toast, so I think those mad skills aren’t for me.”

Speaking about toast, you walk over to the toaster and find them evenly cooked. You pull them out and begin spreading butter across all the edges, like you knew that Dave liked. “You’re plenty talented at a lot of things,” you reply to his previous comment, despite knowing that he hadn’t really been serious. “I really wish that I knew as much as music as you and the fact that you’re getting paid for it means that others do too.”

You deliver the toast to him and he shrugs as you go back to the stove, flipping over the two omelets cooking there. You really hoped that Roxy was fine with meat, the thinness of her form worrying you and alerting you to the fact that she could use a good meal even if she hadn’t thrown up everything last night. _Of course, everyone looked like a strong wind could blow them away around here._

Due to your thoughts, you don’t see Dave watching you as he crunches on his toast, something speculative and near _awe_ , in them as you continue your duties, cleaning with an orange rag as you go.

“So,” Dave swallows, making an appreciative noise as you glance back at him. “What happened to—”

You realize, far too late, that, maybe, you should have told Dave of Roxy’s plans.

The door swings open and Roxy strolls in, eagerly power-walking across the floor towards the kitchen with some sort of bag in her right hand. “I’m here!” she says cheerfully. “Hope you guys didn’t start without me!”

Dave slowly turns towards you and the urge to hide your face is strong, but you meet his eyes. He’s giving you the obvious _‘what the fuck is going on?’_ and you just shrug. He raises an eyebrow and your mouth twitches upward, gesturing with your right shoulder towards the hyperactive young woman.

“—and, ooh! Are you guys talking without talking? That’s so cool!”

You jolt from staring at Dave— _huh, you really had been having a silent conversation with Dave… a ‘Strider Convo’ as you would have called it thousands of years ago—_ and back at Roxy, trying not to look too sheepish at the overt rudeness. “Sorry, Roxy,” you answer, still rather uncertain how things had come to this. “We were just… nevermind. Here,” you gesture awkwardly at the pan, “I have your omelet right here.”

Her pink eyes— _huh, they reminded you of the pink tourmalines back in the Cavern of Hearts… you wonder if that’s why you had been so fond of them, the rubies, and purple amethysts—_ sparkle as she looks at the stove with awe. “Wow, thanks, Dirk! You’re the absolute best!”

“Um…”

The two of you look at Dave and, once again, you feel guilty, mentally berating yourself. Even though it was Roxy— _your sister, **his** sister—_ she was still, essentially, a stranger barging into his apartment. While he was eating breakfast. While he was in his boxers. With his shades off.

_Fuck, you were the worse housekeeper ever._

“Uh, Dave,” you say awkwardly, trying to convey how badly you felt by raising your shades to reveal your amber eyes, seeing his eyes slightly widen in surprise as you did so. “This... is our, your, neighbor—”

“Roxy Lalonde!” finishes Roxy— _you ignore the jolt that goes through you when you hear that, not only was her first name the same as her original counterpart, but her last name as well_ —as she walks over to Dave and smiles cheerfully. “And you’re Dave Strider, right! We’ve been living next to one another for, like, two years now, right?”

“Right?” asks Dave uncertainly, glancing towards you. You knew it wasn’t him asking you if that was true— _how were you supposed to know how long he had been living here? Even if two years sounded… weird, somehow—_ and more from him not knowing how to handle this situation. You could emphasize, having felt it non-stop for the past two weeks. But, even then, you knew that Roxy could be a bit… much on people who didn’t know her— _even though this was his **sister**. _

You nod and it seems to calm him as you go back to the stove, flipping the omelets over as you listen to Roxy send rapid fire questions towards Dave. It was odd, given that she hadn’t asked anything of you this morning, but there was something… comforting, in hearing the two of them converse, even if Roxy seemed way too excited and Dave’s responses were short and awkward, at best.

_Still, it was **Dave** and **Roxy**. _

_Your **brother** and **sister**. _

Your hand tightens around the spatula and you carefully monitor your breathing, not wanting to go into another panic attack— _you still couldn’t believe you had done that last night, what was wrong with you? Well, everything, but still—_ but unable to handle the emotions swirling inside of you. You had never thought it possible to meet them again, had thought, ever since you remembered them again just over a year ago, that you would just go about your miserable existence longing for them with the knowledge that you had somehow led to their demise. So, for them, even without Rose, to be here, with _you_ of all persons, it was…

“ _Cinnamon Rolls_ ,” says Dave behind you, voice filled with awe and bringing you from your thoughts. You turn around and see that Roxy has brought out one of those Pillsbury dough containers from her bag, displaying it proudly as Dave looks at it with a hungry gleam in his eyes before looking at you. “Bro, can you cook these?”

Still unable to speak, you take the container and nod, the instructions saying that it would only take a quick ten minutes to cook. You already had the oven preheated in case Roxy took some time getting here, so it would take no time at all.

After you put oil on the tray and arrange the cinnamon rolls into neat rows, you place it into the stove and set the timer. Dave and Roxy are still chatting behind you, the former a bit more open— _obviously, the expression that the way to get to a man’s heart is through their stomach was true—_ now as you deliver them their omelets, their breakfast having finished a few minutes ago.

“Dig in,” you say, nodding at them both before turning to start cleaning—

“Wait.” You obediently turn back around and see Dave frowning at you and, to your surprise, Roxy also looks uncertain. You would wonder if you had somehow screwed up the food if it wasn’t for the fact that they hadn’t taken a bite yet. “Where’s… yours?”

Oh. You shake your head, trying to non-verbally tell them that it was fine, but Dave’s frown only increases. “Shit, did we eat all the groceries already?”

“No,” you try to calm him. “There’s plenty left—”

“So why aren’t you eating?” he asks, a bit more belligerent than you expected.

“Dirk…” says Roxy, glancing down at her omelet before looking at you in despair, making your heart hurt since it had been so happy a moment ago— _how were you screwing this up already?_ “Did you give me yours?”

Your eyes widen, trying to keep your panic internal. “No, it’s fine!” you say hurriedly. “I’m not hungry—”

“Bullshit,” says Dave, eyes narrowed. “This is about the money thing again, isn’t it?”

“Money?” asks Roxy and you tense further, worried that Roxy would somehow feel guilty for your actions but knew that Dave was unlikely to talk about his finances in front of her—

Dave nods, shocking you. “Yeah, he fucking worries too much about this shit. I hired him to be my housekeeper, but he _still_ worries about things like how much he’s eating and takes smaller portions on _purpose_.”

You swallow. Dave… had noticed that?

Regardless, your silence is damning and the two of them look at each other— _some sort of wordless conversation that makes you feel unbalanced for some reason_ —before back at you, the same determination— _the Strilonde determination—_ evident in both of their gazes.

“Bro,” says Dave seriously. “Either you cook yourself food, or _I’m_ going to try to. Believe me, dude, you don’t want to see that. Cracked eggs and splatters _everywhere._ Mess will be on the level of World War 5, it’s going to be that bad.”

“What happened to 3 and 4?” you ask before his words register. “No, Dave, it’s fine—”  

“And I’ll help him!” interrupts Roxy excitedly which makes you genuinely pause, images of the two of them attempting to cook together filling your head. Already, you knew, even more so than Dave cooking, that _Roxy cooking_ was a _horrible_ idea.

You sigh, giving in as you feel your stomach continue to do flip-flops. Perhaps you _should_ eat… after all, you hadn’t eaten last night, so perhaps that would balance the cost to Dave.

With another exaggerated sigh, you turn back to the stove and begin to crack eggs into a bowl, hearing the telltale sound of a high-five behind you. _Those two, only two minutes after meeting each other, and they’re already plotting against me—some things really never do change._

Somehow, the thought warms you and you have to avoid humming. You whisk together the eggs with the milk before pouring it into the pan, giving in to Dave’s earlier demansd and making a regular size omelet since your reincarnated brother could apparently tell that you were making yours ¾ the size all this time. “You know,” you call back towards them, watching the yellow mixture being to bubble on the pan. “I’ve gone days without a meal, sometimes longer. This is nothing, so I’d really be fine—”

“ _No_.”

You pause, wondering at the tone before realizing that it had been Dave speaking. Dave who, in both lives, avoided conflict whenever he could— _unless that ‘Karkat’ was involved, apparently…_

Still, you turn back towards him and see a strangely serious expression on his face. The sight makes you freeze, wondering what you had said wrong. He _kindly_ reveals your blunder to you a moment later.

“That’s not going to happen, Bro,” says Dave, still hyper-focused with those intense, ruby-red eyes. “I don’t fucking care if I have to work double shifts every night, you’re _not_ going to be missing meals again.”

“Again?” asks Roxy hesitantly, glancing towards you and back at Dave, biting her lower lip. You really wish she wouldn’t—she had the same bad habit back in Derse too.

Dave nods, seeming to hesitate before finally blurting out his words, “Dirk used to be homeless!”

Your eyes widen, wondering where this was all coming from—

“—but, as long as I’m around, that’s not going to happen again!” he says stubbornly, hands gripped around his fork and lips pressed together tightly. “I don’t know why you keep acting like it’s fine if you just up and died!”

_That’s because… that’s exactly what you deserved_.

Obviously, you do not say that. You weren’t even sure you _could_ say something, fundamentally affected by Dave’s rant. It had only been a few sentences, rather on-point compared to his normal ones, but all the more effective as a result.

_He… he really cared that much? Why?_

Finally, you slump. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Dave,” you say softly, trying to convey your honest through eye-contact, imploring him to understand. “It’s just… I’ve been alone for a while—” _If you didn’t include that year with Jake, you had been alone for a long, long, **long** time… _ “—so I guess I’m… just used to it.”

Dave glares and crosses his arms. “Well, you have me now. Bros don’t turn their back on bros.”

“And me too!” Roxy pipes in, surprising the two of you and making you both look at her. There’s a surprisingly determined expression on her face. “You really took care of me last night, Dirk—” You’re surprised that Dave didn’t snicker, proving the seriousness of her tone—the seriousness of them both. “—so I’m going to take care of you now, ‘kay?”

You’d literally known her for less than a day, known Dave for a _week_ , so how… how was it possible that they could say such things to you? _Acting like… like you’re worth anything and not the person who had ruined their lives thousands of years ago…_

_If they knew…_

Still, they didn’t, and you feel your throat close up as you glance away, pretending to look at the cooking omelet before giving a short nod, unable to think clearly from the emotions swirling inside of you. Surprisingly, they leave you alone, apparently content that they got their message across, and chatter begins once more as Roxy asks Dave random questions with Dave actually asking a few back.

The oven dings and you open it, bringing out the cinnamon rolls with a protective glove before setting the tray on the table. After that, you serve your omelet on to a plate and sit down to eat— _ignoring their shit-eating grins as you pick up a fork—_ before gesturing towards the tray awkwardly.

“Cinnamon rolls?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter got a lot more cuddly-domestic and less plot-related than I expected, so… yeah, hope you enjoyed those Strilonde family fluff and Magic-related jargon? Like, I had plans for this chapter to be Dave going ‘what the fuck is this strange, excited woman doing in our apartment’ which somehow turned into ‘Roxy, we must team up and force Dirk to not be so self-sacrificing’. 
> 
> I mean, no doubt that Dirk needs some serious talks on his self-destructive behavior (even if the sources are… a bit self-destructive themselves), but I wasn’t expecting this type of dynamic for a while. How'd it seem?
> 
> Anyway, next chapter will still be Dirk, Dave, and Roxy oriented (spoiler: it’s not going to go as smoothly as this united, happy family scene—muhahahaha). But, in the chapter after that, a certain… someone will be showing up. Any bets on who? Also, any general theories? I love hearing about theories, whether or not I can incorporate them into the story! 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!


	8. You Shouldn't Have To Buy Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually a bit more difficult to write than I thought it would be—haha, probably because it’s closer to character development than plot development. 
> 
> Also lost my notes on this chapter and the next so… yeah, had to remember all of that. I plot out chapters ahead of time—helps me get my thoughts straight on the bare minimum that I want in it as well as the ‘subtle’ hints towards future events. Yeah, that took time to redo…

You weren’t quite sure how it happened… but you were pretty sure that Roxy was trying to be your ‘ _Sugar Mama.’_

Now, with a statement like that, you should probably back up and start from the beginning.

After that unforeseen gang-up by your reincarnated sibs about your wellbeing— _you still can’t help the warm ache you feel every time you think about it_ —the rest of breakfast had been surprisingly amiable—if you were the type of person to use words like ‘amiable’— _wow, you must really miss Rose; your thoughts sounded like her now._

It was in the middle of the conversation that Roxy had suddenly jumped up, shocking both of you— _especially Dave who, you knew from proximity with him the last week, **really** didn’t like sudden movements. _ Roxy didn’t notice— _not surprising since Dave barely twitched—_ and began to say something about needing to go to her stupid, stuffy research job.

She had stuffed a cinnamon roll in her mouth and went out the door, yelling that she would bring stuff for dinner.

It had taken a few minutes before Dave voiced the question that was on both of your minds.

“Did she… just invite herself to dinner?”

She had.

_What a dinner that had been…_  

_Flashback_

_Knock Knock!_

_You jolted at the sound, looking up from where you had been wiping down the kitchen countertops. A glance towards where Dave sat on the couch as he made the next comic for Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff made it obvious that it wasn’t somehow him at the door. His bewildered—_ the slight raise to his left eyebrow meant ‘bewildered’ in the Strilonde language of silence— _glance in your direction confirmed that he hadn’t been expecting anyone either._

_However, now that you were aware that there was someone there, the glaring absent feeling of ‘Void’ gave you a pretty good idea of who it was._

_To confirm it, you walked through the living room to the door and looked through the peephole._

_The blonde head of hair that you saw had you opening the door before you could even properly register the face. Roxy burst through with a large smile and arms filled with shopping bags that you recognized to be from a higher class grocery store—_ if that didn’t sound as ridiculous as it felt to think _—closer to the city._

_“Hey Dirk!” she said excitedly, brushing hair out of her face with one occupied hand before looking over at Dave on the couch and grinning even wider. “Hiya Dave!”_

_Both of Dave’s eyebrows were raised this time as he stared at the female interloper. “Uh… hi, Roxy. I thought you said you had work?”_

_“Pssshh, they don’t care how long I’m there as long as I get the work done,” she said, waving a bag-filled hand before turning towards you again. “Dirk! Take me to your food holder!”_

_Despite yourself, you snort, taking the bags from her protesting hands and bringing them over to the kitchen, despite how surreal everything felt—_ though, that had always been how life with Roxy was; past and present it seemed _—before setting them down._

_Dave looked over your shoulder as you unpacked the groceries, his eyes wide as he took in the contents of the bags. “Whoa.”_

_‘Whoa’ was right. There had to at least be hundreds of dollars worth of food in there! There were normal things like pepperoni pizza and strawberry-flavored ice cream, but there were also things like **steak** and fresh fruits and vegetables. _

_“Roxy,” you asked slowly, glancing over to where she watched the two of you with a strange intensity. “Are you… inviting someone else to dinner that we don’t know about?”_

_“No, silly!” She laughed, though it almost sounded odd. “It’s for this morning!”_

_Beside you, Dave picked up a red apple, studying it like he had never seen the actual fruit version of his favorite juice. “I think I’m going to be with Dirk here, not sure how an omelet and some bacon equals this treasure trove.”_

_You mentally tense at the word—_ it’s beyond stupid; fucking trauma _—and force yourself to look through the contents some more before pausing, picking up a plastic bag with what appeared to be ‘roasted & salted’ seeds in them. _

**_Pumpkin_ ** _seeds…_

_“What’s wrong?” Roxy asked, noticing your expression. She bit her lip and looked at you with suddenly hesitant pink eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to eat those, I just like them, I can get you something—”_

_“Roxy,” you interrupted quietly, trying to stop the feelings welling up inside. “It’s… perfect. I actually really like pumpkin seeds. I…”_

_You’re unable to finish the sentence, but the bright smile that erupts on her face prompts you to not say anything else, immediately setting out to cook up the steak, mashed potatoes, and peas at her request._

_And while you notice her put the pizza, ice cream, and other ‘extra’ items into the fridge when you’re done, the actually satisfied and full expression on Dave’s face—_ one you hadn’t been able to see thus far, even when you gave him half of your portions _—after he’s done eating makes you forget the strange face Roxy had earlier._

_End Feedback_

Okay, you knew that it was horrible of you to suspect something was up with Roxy from something as simple as a _good dinner_ … but it hadn’t ended there.

It was the next day, when Roxy came over for breakfast, that the next incident occurred.

_Flashback_

_This time, Dave doesn’t even blink when he walks into the kitchen and sees Roxy sitting at what was already coming to be ‘her spot’ at the table. She had seemed content since arriving a few minutes ago to just watch you cook up the ‘leftovers’—_ read: a completely new batch of fruit-filled pancakes, since she had apparently bought the ingredients for them too _—but lit up when she saw Dave._

_“Hi Dave!” she said, chipper as ever._

_Dave, to his credit, just nodded and sat at the table, resting his head on it with a groan. You snorted, already familiar with his morning antics, while Roxy giggled as well. “Aww, is Davey a sleepy-head?”_

_He turned his head over and scowled at her. “Morning people are weird,” he declared._

_“Is it morning if it’s almost noon?” you asked, the horrible person you were. You knew that Dave worked hard at his job and that this was the bare minimum sleep he needed… but you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him if Roxy was. Old habits and all._

_Dave flopped his head over to glare at you. “I hate you both.”_

_You’re too busy flipping over a Time shaped pancake—_ or, at least you had tried to make it look Time shaped, it somehow resembled the Light aspect more which kind of hurt your heart _—to notice Roxy’s sudden hesitant expression before it was gone again._

_“Awww,” her voice a pout, “does that mean that a certain someone_ doesn’t _want to play Openbound? I sssssssuppose I can just play with Dirk—”_

_Dave sat up and stared at Roxy, eyes wide. “Wait, what? That’s not even supposed to come out for another six months! How could you have it!?”_

_You turned around just as Roxy began to wave a case with the green words ‘Openbound’ upon them, a smirk on her face. You remember the two of them had talked about that game last night, but you’re rather certain that it had been Dave telling her about it and not the other way around…_

_“Magic biatch,” whispered Roxy dramatically. “Buuuuuuuuuuut, if you dooooon’t want to play…”_

_“No, I do!” Dave eagerly took the case from Roxy’s hands, missing the flash of relief on her face before it returned to her usual expression. “Shit, Karkat would be so—”_

_He stopped. You tensed from where you were plating the Light pancake, Roxy looking back and forth from the two of you with a confused expression.  Please, don’t ask—_

_“Who’s Karkat?”_

_—but that was a bit too much to wish for, wasn’t it?_

_Dave’s expression, predictably, was closed off tighter than Fort Knox as he regarded the game with his mouth pressed together in a thin line. “…no one,” he answered finally, seeming to avoid looking either of you, “just a chump who would be sick-nasty jealous to see that I had this.”_

_‘He’d probably be more jealous of Roxy being able to play it with you,’ you think before you can stop yourself._

_Roxy slowly nods her head, suddenly looking more hesitant than you’d ever seen her. You’re not sure why but chalk it up to how upset Dave got whenever Karkat got brought up. If she stayed around for a while—_ you **really** hoped she would _—you’d probably fill her in on the details so she couldn’t accidentally upset Dave._

_But for now…_

_You set down their servings of pancake and everything returns to normal._

_End Flashback_

And, _okay_ , bringing a game over to play— _even one that was apparently not to be released for another six months and one that you’re pretty sure that Roxy hadn’t wanted until Dave had said something about it—_ shouldn’t be considered odd, especially from the mad amount of glee that Roxy got from whooping Dave and your behind at it, but the fact that she kept giving little ‘gifts’ like that was.

…especially since some of the gifts weren’t so _little._

First, the television…

_Flashback_

_“Andddd… there!”_

_The sound of a triumphant voice greets you as you walk out the bathroom. You pause, seeing what is definitely_ not _Dave’s two-bit television on his old living room stand, some sort of high-definition thing of beauty in its place that you somewhat recall seeing in Roxy’s apartment._

_You glance over at Dave who shrugs. “Her idea,” he says helpfully, making you roll your eyes._

_Roxy playfully sticks out her tongue. “Openbound should only be played on the best!” she argues, though she sounds a bit odd. “I can’t let you guys witness its beauty on anything else!”_

_You roll your eyes, snorting lightly. “And I’m guessing you’re going to want **me** to move it back tonight when you guys are done playing.”_

_She looks at you strangely, suddenly fiddling with her nails. “Nah, I’m just going to leave it here.”_

_At that, both Dave and you look up at her in confusion. “Wait, what?” That had been Dave, but you had been about to say the same thing._

_The smile on her face seems a bit odd as she laughs, gesturing towards the high-definition television. “How else am I going to beat Dave’s butt at Mario Kart without him accusing little old me of cheating?” She waves a hand as you go to protest. “Really, Di-Stri, it’s not like I use it. I rather watch anime on my computer than my TV anyway.”_

_It’s probably the nickname that causes you to falter and not say anything, but, after seeing Dave shrug, you nod yourself. After all, if Dave was fine with it, what reason did you have to complain? Really, why the fuck did you want or even think you could say anything at all? You had no place questioning anything Dave or Roxy did, even if something felt a bit odd about this._

_You let it go. After all, it wasn’t like she was giving it to you…_

_End Flashback_

Then the thing with the vacuum…

_Flashback_

_“I’m reeeeeally sorry, Dirk,” says Roxy as you use a dustpan to sweep up the coffee grounds that Roxy had accidentally knocked to the ground while talking excitedly about their quality._

_You wave a hand. “It’s not a big deal,” you say, not really thinking about the mess and more about what you would cook for dinner that night, though you do frown when some of the brown powder gets stuck between the crack. “Damn, a vacuum cleaner would be pretty useful right now…”_

_Since you’re looking down, you don’t notice the way Roxy’s face lights up. Instead, you only hear her yell a “wait right there!” and the sound of a door closing._

_You don’t have to wait long before Roxy is coming back in, lugging in what appears to be a bright pink vacuum cleaner—never used._

_Your eyes widen but you nod, thanking her as you plug it in and use it to get the last of the coffee grounds. “Thanks,” you say when you finish, wrapping the cord back around the device. “That’s a lot easier than sweeping.”_

_“You can keep it if you want.”_

_You look up, surprised at the offer. “Uh… don’t you need it?”_

_Roxy giggles, but she’s doing that swaying thing that means she’s nervous for whatever reason. “Have you **seen** my apartment? Does it look like I know how to use that thing?” _

_Snorting, you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s even messier than Dave’s when I first got here.” You pause, looking at the vacuum and then to her content expression as she begins to talk about how she’s really bad at cleaning and how she’s pretty sure that the vacuum tried to eat her Mutie when she tried to use it…_

_Despite the feeling of unease, you decide to let it go._

_End Flashback_

Then, there was the thing with the headphones…

_Flashback_

_“Fuck,” mutters Dave one day when you’re about to go to his work, Roxy helping you dry off the dishes before she returned to her apartment for the night._

_You look up and see that he’s holding his ratty pair of red headphones with a scowl, fiddling with a wire sticking out the side while he sits on one of the stools for the counter. Even with your lack of knowledge at the technology of the modern era—_ you really should try to get on that now that you weren’t barely surviving on the streets, shouldn’t you?— _you could tell that wasn’t very good._

_“What’s wrong?” you ask as you pass Roxy a cleaned lasagna dish, even though you’re pretty sure you know what he’s about to say._

_“Stupid thing is being buggy again,” he mutters, frowning as he rips off a piece of duct tape and wraps it around the side. “Thing is on its last legs, like give me that blue parking pass because this definitely qualifies for handicapped, but I really can’t afford a new one so…”_

_You frown, too guilty about the extra money you’re costing him to notice Roxy’s considering expression beside you._

_That night, when you return to the apartment, Roxy is there, despite the fact that you knew that she had said she would spend the night coding and would next see you for breakfast._

_“Roxy?” you ask, wondering if she had come for a late night snack as you feel goosebumps form from the warm air of the apartment. The freak cold snap seemed to have broken—_ or, at least, there wasn’t snow on the ground anymore _—but it still wasn’t up to normal Texan temperatures._

_She grins at you before walking over to Dave—_ who is visibly exhausted, which you knew to be more from avoiding his friends than his actual job _—presenting something bright red without a word._

_It only takes you a moment to realize that they’re headphones, much like the ones that laid busted around his neck—_ it had almost been an issue tonight, but luckily Dave was a musical genius and was able to work around it _—but obviously far less broken. In fact, it was brand new unless Roxy kept the plastic on the sides of it for fun._

_Dave looks speechless at the object before looking up at Roxy with an obviously confused expression. “Uh, what is—”_

_“A gift!” she says cheerfully before her smile starts to falter when he doesn’t reach out to take it. “Do you… not like it?”_

_“Uh, no!” Dave hurriedly grabs them, eyes widening when he sees the brand. “Holy shit, these are a **lot** better than mine. Like, this pair would school mine like some sort of college professor to some snot nose preschooler who doesn’t know one plus one.”_

_“I have a lot of them,” pipes in Roxy, happy again now that Dave had taken the present. “So, since you said yours were breaking, I totes thought these match your style!”_

_“Uh… yeah,” says Dave, a hesitant smile on his face as he glances over at you before back at her, rubbing his thumb along the spine of the new headphones. “They’re mad awesome.”_

_This time, not even Roxy’s smile distracts you from realizing what’s going on._

_End Flashback_

And, then today, it’s when you find a large box on your front porch labeled ‘ _Dirk Strider’_ from CrockerCorp that you know a talk with Roxy is long overdue.

This time, when Roxy comes over for dinner, you’re sitting next to the CrockerCorp box, idly drinking a can of your favorite orange soda that Roxy had bought a six-pack of a few days ago, claiming that it had been ‘on-sale’ and then coincidentally not drinking any every time you offered.

Her face seems to fall when she sees the object is still in the box. “Um, did you not—”

“We need to talk,” you say bluntly, regretting it when you see her face fall further. You hate putting that expression on her face, but she had been side-stepping it all this time so you knew you needed to be direct. Even without being a _Rogue_ of _Void_ , Roxy was very difficult to catch, physically or mentally, if you weren’t fully prepared.

She rubs her wrists, a nervous habit that gives you both nostalgia and further regret. Your Roxy had done that too when she was genuinely upset. “W-What about?” she asks, trying to keep a cheery tone to her voice even as she glances everywhere but you. “Is… is the type? I promise it’s good quality, my friend—”

“It’s not about the quality,” you interrupt, lowering your voice to a gentler tone, “or, rather, it is… Roxy, this mixer costs over _three-hundred dollars_.”

She bites her lip. “I got a discount—”

“Even with a discount,” you interrupt again, “it’s still pricey as hell.”

You sigh, glancing down at the floor before setting the soda on the counter and looking at her with your full attention. “Roxy… why do you keep giving Dave and I really expensive things?”

The way her eyes widen, like a cornered mouse, confirms that you had been correct in your assumption.

Her eyes dart around, thinly veiled panic in them. “W-What are you talking about, Di-Stri?” Your heart lurches at the name, as it probably would until she said it a thousand more times, but you hold strong this time. “ _Pshh_ , I really just had that—”

“Lying around?” you finish with a raised brow. “Roxy, I’ve seen your apartment, you obviously cook and clean as much as Dave does—which is to say very little.”

You’re pretty sure you feel a spot of embarrassed irritation from Dave’s Soul from where he’s listening to the conversation behind his bedroom door, but you kindly ignore it.

“Not to mention that this was addressed to me and dated for today,” you continue, slowly approaching Roxy, afraid that you’d startle her and lose her forever… like you had once before. “Roxy, I know you’re probably just trying to be nice, but you don’t have to buy—”

“Yes, I do!” shouts Roxy suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

To your horror, there are tears forming in her eyes. “I need to!” she says, pink eyes wide and vulnerable. “I-I didn’t know that the t-things I was getting were bothering you, but… but I can get you whatever you want—”

“Why would you think you have to?” you ask finally, forcing yourself from your shock and instinctively going over to place your hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her shaking.

“Because!” she insists, even as she somehow becomes even smaller in your grasp, “I know I’m really a-annoying, and c-clingy, but… but people let me stay around m-more if I buy them things, and I _really_ like you and Dave s-so—”

The bedroom door creaks open and you feel Dave’s presence come towards the two of you. You look up and see Dave staring straight at Roxy.

“You were trying to bribe us to like you?” he asks, point blank. You resist the urge to smack him— _even if you knew you couldn’t lay a hand on him if your life depended upon it—_ as Roxy becomes even smaller. “Like some sort of… _Sugar_ _Mama_?”

“Dave—” you start, internally starting to panic.                        

“Because it’s stupid as shit if you think that we have to be _bribed_ to hang out with you,” continues Dave, crossing his arms irritably.

Roxy looks at him, confused, before back at you. You sigh, nodding silently at Dave before looking back at her with what you hoped what you hoped was a comforting expression. “He’s right,” you say firmly, rubbing small circles into her shoulders with your thumbs. “We haven’t been spending time with you because you’ve been buying us food or shit, but because we _like_ spending time with you.”

“You’re really cool,” adds in Dave awkwardly, fidgeting with his sleeve. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t like the video game, or the headphones, or the HD-TV, and I’m sure Dirk likes his cooking and cleaning shit—” He rolls his eyes, as if _you’re_ the weird on here… which you probably were. “—but we’d hang out with you even if all you did was beat our asses at Mario Kart.”

“You threw up on my shoes and I’m still here,” you add in idly, making her flush in front of you. “I’m pretty sure that means I’m in this for life.”

_In more ways that they could possibly know…_

“Roxy,” you continue, catching her eyes. “You don’t have to try so hard with us. I don’t know what _assholes_ you were hanging out with in the past, but we’re not like them. We’re family.”

You blurt out the word before you can stop yourself. You feel Roxy stiffen beneath your hands just as you see Dave freeze at the corner of your eyes. Shit, _shit!_ You hadn’t meant to say that. _Great_ , you had gone into this conversation to convince Roxy that everything was alright, but now you had just everything by sounding like a complete _creep—_

“…family?”

Blinking, you recognize Roxy’s voice. She’s still looking at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, and, clutches your fingers tightly, as if they’re some sort of lifeline. “Do… do you mean that, Di-Stri?”

You swallow, hyperaware of Dave’s lack of movement from the corner of your eyes, but that… that _face_. How could you lie to _that face_?

_At least, any more than you already had been…_

“Yes…” you finally say, swallowing. “I… I know that’s fucking weird, coming from a homeless guy you’ve known for, like, three days—”

“Not homeless,” pipes in Dave. You look at him and see him looking at the ground before up at the two of you again, seemingly strangely hesitant himself. “And… yeah,” he nods to himself and looks at Roxy, “yeah, I’d definitely consider you to be my hot sister.”

A moment passes and he flushes, realizing his words. “Or, fuck, normal sister, or, wait, that’s worse—”

You feel the motion beneath your hands before Roxy cracks up in front of you, tears streaming down her cheeks even as she laughs. You and Dave exchange a look, probably both wondering if she had somehow gone crazy.

She wipes her tears from her eyes, as if no longer bothered that they’re there. “Aww, don’t worry Dave! I’ll happily be your hot older sister!” she says cheerfully, her smile finally _genuine_. You realize, only now after seeing its full brightness after so long, that so many of her smiles the past few days had been holding something back. “Your friends be dropping over themselves to get a look at this sweet bodacious bod.”

Dave glances away, face red from his slip. “ _I can think of one who wouldn’t…”_ you think you hear him mutter quietly.

Roxy, evidently, doesn’t care and is suddenly dragging you over and pulling Dave into a group hug, squeezing as if she thinks you’re about to suddenly disappear.

_(Wow, you’re never going to even fucking **think** that again.) _

“I’ve always wanted brothers,” she says quietly after a moment.

Something inside of you cracks, her words like pressure on glass, but you swallow those feelings. It wasn’t fair. _It just wasn’t **fair**. _ You could understand why you deserved to suffer, to be alone, but Dave and Roxy… there was no way that they should have had to deal with all the horrible things they did. You might only know a fraction of their lives, but you knew it hadn’t been kind to either of them… in more ways than you probably knew.

It was even worse since you knew that, out of the four of you, Dave and Roxy had been the ones who needed others the most. Not to say that you and Rose could function without an extreme amount of support from your siblings, but Dave and Roxy, at least back then, had somehow been more sensitive and extroverted while you and Rose were a lot more closed off to anyone but family. To know that they, for whatever reason, they weren’t surrounded by people who adored them… it made you want to punch something.

_Probably yourself, since you knew, if you ever got all your memories back, that it was somehow your fault._

Still, you indulge in Roxy’s hug and Dave’s proximity a while longer, trying to pretend, for a moment, that everything was fine.

o0o0o

After that, Roxy still brought over stuff, but it was a lot more reasonable and more of a tribute towards her quirky, giving personality than her trying to subtly bribe you guys for your affection. You couldn’t get her to stop bringing over food, but, while you knew it slightly bothered Dave, you also didn’t have the heart to stop her from doing something that kept Dave fully fed.

He— _and Roxy, for that matter—_ might not remember their past lives, but a part of you liked to think that it was Roxy’s internal sense as Dave’s older sister that led her to want to feed him, so you let it slide and made sure that Roxy didn’t go _too_ overboard. Besides, the fact that it was more pizza than high-priced filet mignon probably helped assuage that guilt.

There was also the fact that, after that conversation, something had… changed between the three of you. You had already been getting along a lot quicker than you suspected was normal after so short of time, but it was like that conversation had helped just _click_ another puzzle piece into place. Roxy, and even Dave, seemed to be more comfortable around one another, rather than the awkward initial conversations that slowly turned into genuine excitement over a shared topic.

They also seemed obsessed in getting _you_ to eat more every meal and stop cleaning while they hung out on the couch, instead bringing you into their debates about whether or not Roxy was cheating at Mario Kart or if Dave really had ‘the cutest fluster’ in the world— _it was a solid ‘yes’ to both, but you told neither._

For the next few days, life was pretty good. The three of you mainly hung around the apartment, talked about random subjects or played video games, and generally just spent time like… like a family did. _Like you once did._ If it wasn’t for the glaring lack of a fourth presence, you’d say it was just about perfect.

…

_You should have known it wouldn’t last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, another character-oriented chapter, but, important since I wanted to show more about Roxy’s issues and how her desire not to be alone is so strong that she’s willing to pay Dirk and Dave. It's one thing to give gifts, and another to think your relationship is based upon that. Good thing the boys set things straight. 
> 
> And, as you can see from the ending note, things are going to be HAPPENING in the next chapter. We’re finally going to start getting into the actual MEAT of the plot! I’m so excited. Like, you thought anything before this was angsty and liable to blow up in Dirk's face? Well, get your shields because I've got a cannon aimed at him in the next chapter. 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!


	9. Life's Never Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since he left Jake one year ago, Dirk has been lost. After all, it’s not easy wandering around homeless… especially when you’re a former enslaved spirit who is haunted by the memories of his kingdom and family all being destroyed. Or… were they? 
> 
> With events in the present bearing dark similarities to the tragedy of Derse thousands of years ago, Dirk realizes that time is running out. He needs to find his reincarnated siblings, relearn his powers, and discover the secrets his lost memories may hold before whatever force out there succeeds in killing them. 
> 
> He CAN'T fail. But to win… he’ll need hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hey you guys. Remember when I said a certain someone was showing up this chapter? Hehehehehehehe…
> 
> I was ABOUT to cut the chapter off at my usual length, but then I remembered my promise of a certain character showing up. You all have been so AMAZING with your support and FANTASTIC comments, so I decided you guys more than deserved for me to follow through even if it took more time and effort! LONG CHAPTER YEAH!!!! 
> 
> All I can say… PREPARE FOR FEELS. 
> 
> WARNINGS: Trauma Triggers; Suicidal Thoughts; Slight Self-Harm; Depression; Alcoholism; Slightly Referenced Accidental Incest Feelings; All The Emotional Pain

The start to the horrible day actually started at night.

For the last week, Dave had been bringing you to the nightclub to hang out with him while he worked. Despite the pounding of the stereos and drunken antics of the residents all around you, the DJ Booth was relatively closed-off to the public and allowed the two of you to converse with ease. Any subject was free reign, but a great deal of the time was spent with Dave teaching you how to use the turntables. You were no prodigy, no matter what Dave said, but you were starting to get the hang of it.

Roxy didn’t come along, having changed her work hours at the research facility— _called ‘Skaianet’ which you knew to be one of the leading-technology producers in the world; you wonder what she did there—_ to the night so that she could spend more time with the two of you during the day. It was a rather sweet deal, having your hours relatively synched up so that the three of you could spend the majority of your off hours together in Dave’s apartment.

When you found Rose— _and you **would** , you just had to look out for that ‘Tug’ sensation or whatever—_it would be perfect, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the time you spent one-on-one with Dave in the nightclub and alone with Roxy while Dave slept. It was the most content you had been in… a very long time.

Currently, you were alone in the DJ Booth, carefully spinning the records like Dave had showed you, lights corresponding with your movements in an automated system you idly thought you could make better if you knew more about technology. _Something to ask Roxy at a later date._

Dave had gone off a few minutes ago to the bar to get you guys something to drink. Usually, you were the one making the ‘refreshment run’ but, this time, Dave had wanted to give you some sort of ‘surprise’ _—or, as he put it, ‘heavenly nectar from the gods that will knock your pants off and make you feel like jumping off a cliff is perfectly reasonable it’s that fucking good’—_ and had gone off on his own while you watched over the booth.

It’s then that you feel— _not heard; it’d be a miracle to hear something other than the pulsing music and useless chatter of drunks—_ Dave’s Soul kind of… _jump_. It was immediately familiar, a sense of _frustration, anger, pain, **yearning** —_

Your head snaps up and you search the crowd for him—almost immediately locating him by the bar arguing with a certain albino with their friends standing nervously around them. While you couldn’t hear their conversation, you could see Karkat’s wildly gesticulating arms as well as the way that Dave seemed to get _smaller_ and _angry_ with every passing moment—

You’re pushing past people before you even register that you’d left the DJ Booth, intent on getting over to Dave and stopping the argument before something you’d all regret happened. After all, wasn’t that what you were here for? You knew that Dave enjoyed your company, but you had a feeling he was also using your presence at the nightclub to deter his friends from bothering him while he worked. With you there, he was able to brush them off and talk to you until they awkwardly left— _you always felt like shit when they did, but you would always side with Dave—_ but it seemed that Karkat had finally gotten tired of that.  

If were being honest, you couldn’t blame the guy, having watched him the past few nights get more and more upset at Dave’s avoidance from a distance. Yet, you knew that if Dave didn’t want to talk, no one would be able to get him to— _or, at least, the one who could the best out of the three of you was MIA in the current era—_ no matter how they pushed. 

You’re struggling past a group of giggling girls when you see Dave throw the punch— _target: Karkat’s face_. Karkat seems more stunned than injured when his face twists and he _launches_ himself at Dave, the two falling to the ground in a vicious mess of limbs and punches.

John— _yeah, that’s his name, not ‘Jake-Look-Alike’—_ is yelling at them with visible alarm on his face holding back Jade— _not ‘Painfully Similar Eyes’—_ while a few other friends— _the blind girl and the 3-D glasses guy—_ try to pull them apart.

Then, you’re there, pulling Dave off of Karkat— _by the already forming bruises on Karkat’s face, Dave was definitely not holding back—_ and forcing yourself to ignore the way he turns on you, eyes crazy beneath his shades. Karkat is held back by the combined efforts of John and Jade as you force Dave to step back.

“What’s going on here!?”

_Fuck._

Tensing, you look at Mad Manager waddling over with a grimace, trying to hold Dave back— _his lip is bleeding, you need to treat that—_ even as he _still_ tried to launch himself towards Karkat. “Erm, uh, nothing—”

Sadly, despite his obvious low intelligence, Mad Manager wasn’t quite stupid enough to believe your flimsy attempt at a lie and quickly identified the situation.

“Strider, did you _punch_ _a customer_?” roared Mad Manager, eyes bulging out as he screams himself hoarse. “That’s it, you’re _fired!_ ”

Something inside of you goes cold— _at the corner of your eye, you see Karkat freeze in John and Jade’s arms, but you don’t have time for that—_ at the words. Dave stills in your grasp before pulling away from your arms, stomping towards the DJ Booth without another word.   

_“Don’t you walk away from me, Strider!_ Did you hear me? You’re _FIRED_ —”

“Dave, wait!” you call out, rushing towards him and glancing back and forth from the Mad Manager who is still roaring at Dave to come back but unable to move as quickly as the two of you through the crowd. “Dave, I… I’m sorry, I—”

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, tonelessly as the two of you make it to the DJ Booth in record time. Dave shoves his headphones and other equipment into the bag with more efficiency than you’ve ever seen before zipping it up, throwing it over his shoulder, and starting towards the exit. “This is all _his_ fucking fault.”

You wince, glancing back at where you see Karkat now arguing with the Mad Manager. You’re not sure if it was to prevent the asshole from going after the two of you or if he was trying to argue for Dave’s job, but even you could tell it was a lost cause either way.

“I, I don’t know,” you say, redirecting your attention to Dave as you try to figure out what to do, what you _could_ do in this situation. “I, we’ll fix this, I promise—"

“There’s nothing to fix!” he snaps, stomping past the bouncer and out the door to the parking lot. “Karkat made me lose my job, that’s all there is to it! Hope you still got those mad tips for being homeless cause it looks like there’ll be two for the dumpster tonight—”

“Don’t say that,” you say, though you know your voice is weak, horror coursing through you at the thought of _Dave_ having to go through what you had to the last year. “You’re… I _won’t_ let that happen, I swear—”

The two of you walk— _thought it might as well be a jog with how Dave’s booking it—_ through the parking lot to his car, red and beat-up as ever.  

“Not much I can do without money, bro,” Dave snarks as he forcibly opens the driver side’s door and carelessly tosses his bag into the back. “Not like it would be my first time, either—”

“Wait, what?” you ask, slipping in to the passenger seat and buckling your seatbelt—just in time since Dave wastes no time staring the car and backing up. “I know you were in foster care—”

He laughs darkly, driving from the parking lot. You’re pretty sure you hear someone yelling Dave’s name from outside— _and given the way Dave’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, he does too—_ but you don’t look back, eyes trained on Dave who looks _inches_ from a breakdown.

“Let’s just say some _fucked up_ things happened before I moved here.” Dave laughs, making a right turn a _lot_ faster than necessary— _you try to calm your nerves, remembering what happened with Roxy_. “Being fucking homeless is nothing compared to some of the shit I’ve been through. It’s fine, you’re right, I’ve done this before, I can do this again. Emancipated at fifteen for a reason—”

“Wait, fifteen?” you question, startled at the young age. You knew that Dave had to have been on his own for some reason to have moved into the apartment complex two years ago, but how could he had been emancipated at _fifteen?_ “How, no _why—_ ”

“Like I said, _shit_ happened,” says Dave, speeding through a yellow light and driving up the road to the crappy apartment complex. “I _don’t_ want to talk about it.”

Dave parks the car and is outside before you can blink, grabbing his bag from the bag and starting up the stairs faster than you can follow. You don’t bother thinking about it and quickly follow, fear blooming inside of you as you _feel_ his chaotic emotions swirl around, _consuming him_ —

_AngerHowDareHeOutrageTrustHimFuryHisFaultWhyDidThingsChangeHeKeepsAskingAbout **That** Can’tTellCan’tLetThemKnowHurtHurt **Hurt** —_

Before you can stop yourself, the words blurt out, “What does that have to do with Karkat?”

Dave freezes on the stairs. He doesn’t look back at you, might as well be a statue, but his ever-flowing emotions only keep trying to _suffocate you—_

“Dave,” you scramble for words as you grasp the rail of the stairs, trying— _failing—_ to push out his emotions so you can think clearly yet too rusty with your Heart-abilities to be successful. “I… I don’t know what’s going on, but even I can see every time you hurt him, you’re hurting _yourself—_ ”

“You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about!” yells Dave, refusing to look at you though his hand tightens on the strap of his bag. “And, Karkat? He can _jump off a fucking cliff—_ ”

“You don’t mean that,” you warn, feeling sick to your stomach. “You said you guys were friends, _best friends_. I know there was some sort of fight, but what kind of fight could cause you to act like _this_? Unless…”

You pause, wheels turning in your head as your mouth takes over. “…this isn’t just about whatever fight you guys had, is it?” He stiffens, confirming your words and you plow on. “Jade… Jade said that Karkat said you used to be different, before the two of you were separated into different foster homes a few years ago. Is… is this about whatever happened during that time? Dave, _why were you_ _emancipated_ —”

_“Shut the hell up!_ ” You freeze as Dave finally spins around, eyes blazing beneath his shades like red giants in the dark sky. “This, _this is what he does!_ It was bad enough that Karkat had to go and say that **_other_** _**bullshit**_ , but then he had to go and be like you— _poking around in shit that’s none of your fucking goddamn business!_ ”

“Of course it is!” you snap, finally losing your temper even as you desperately try to reel it in, force your own emotions to listen to you. “You’re falling apart, Dave! Anyone can see that whatever you’re holding back is tearing you to pieces from the inside out! I don’t know what Karkat said—”

“So, you’re on his side now!?” Dave hisses, fists shaking and looking very similar to how he was before he had attacked Karkat next to the bar.   

“I’m on _your side_ ,” you shout, pleading for him to understand. You know you need to stop. That you yourself had said that Dave wouldn’t talk if he didn’t want to. But you were- _so_ - _fucking-sick-of-this_. So _sick_ of being _so close_ yet _so far away!_ You wanted to help him, would _tear_ _yourself_ _apart_ if that’s what Dave needed, but he had to _let you **in**!_ “ _Always_! I just want to _help_ —”

Dave laughs derisively, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as he nearly pulls out the roots with his grip. “Yeah _fucking_ right! You know _nothing about me_!”

_You have to back down, you **need** to—_

Desperation wins out, your entire body shaking. “And _whose_ fault is that!? You won’t tell me _anything_ —”

“Why the fuck would I tell you anything!?” shouts Dave, throwing his bag down, probably breaking whatever equipment laid inside. “You’re just a… a _BEGGAR I took pity on_!”

Your breath catches. You can’t speak—but Dave can. _And does._

Dave’s free hand waves erratically, as if possessed. “I know you just said that shit to shut Roxy up! I get it! You’re only saying bullshit like ‘ _family’_ and ‘ _care_ ’ because you’re afraid I’m going to kick you out, right!? You don’t actually care, that’s _fine_! I don’t need it! I’m already letting you stay so _shut the fuck up already!_ ”

“D-Dave,” you say weakly, reaching out for him before you can stop yourself. “N-No, I—”

As you touch the bare skin of Dave’s wrist— _only momentarily feeling the raised skin and scarring—_ you realize, a moment too late, that you had made a grave mistake.  

_“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”_

Dave _throws_ you off and you tumble down the stairs, looking up with wide eyes when you barely catch yourself against a lower railing as Dave stares down at you, panting wildly. You can’t see his eyes from this distance but he takes a step back, violently trembling and wrapping his arms around himself before he _disappears._

You blink— _where did he—_ before you hear a door _SLAM._  

Stumbling up the stairs— _wincing, you might have twisted an ankle catching yourself—_ you look down the hallway, frantically reaching out with your Soul before pinpointing Dave’s Soul in your— _his—_ apartment. You don’t know how he got there so fast— _there was something niggling at the back of your mind, but you didn’t have **time** to deal with it right now—_ but you know that it’s too late. There’s no doubt in your mind that he had locked the door. Probably barricaded himself in his bedroom, having a meltdown and _cursing your name—_

Your legs give out before you can stop yourself and your knees collide painfully with the concrete ground, fists balling against the floor as you try to stop tears from falling.

You fucked up.

You _fucked up so bad_.

A scream rips from your throat and you pound the ground, uncaring of the pain that jolts up your right arm. Why? _Why_ did you push Dave so hard? You _knew_ he wouldn’t speak, knew that he was too riled up from the fight with Karkat and being _fired_ , _knew_ that you didn’t _matter_ enough to him to make him speak, _knew_ that nothing would come of you trying— _yet_ _you still did it anyway!_

Both of your fists _slam_ to the ground, pain strong enough to cut through your thoughts. You hope that it would get worse, that all the bones would break, splinter, _cut_ through the skin, and become infected because that was only a _fraction_ _of what you deserved for upsetting Dave!_

And for what reason? What was the _point_ of all of that? Why did you think you had _any right_ to question him about anything? Well, this should be enough of reminder of what happened when you tried! You still knew _nothing_ about what had happened to traumatize— _and it was, it was trauma, you could try to ignore it, but someone had **hurt** your baby brother so bad—_ him nonetheless how to help him! Dave was more alone than _ever_ and you… _you…_

You froze. Dave… Dave had just kicked you out, hadn’t he? He told you, very clearly, _not_ to touch him— _that he doesn’t want you **anywhere** near him—_ and that he had only been taking care of you because of _pity_. And he had just _lost his job,_ hadn’t he? Even if you hadn’t just torn up every last flimsy bond you had with him, there was no way he was going to let you leech off his resources and force him into homelessness any faster.

 Wetness drips down your face and drips against the floor, harsh sobs welling up inside of you. It’s pathetic, crying when you had just helped ruin the life of one of the few people you swore to never harm again, but the tears won’t stop no matter how you try to prevent them.  

_Who were you kidding? Thinking that you could **possibly** have your family again—or even some semblance of a happy life? There was a reason that you lost them once, that they didn’t **remember** you now while you were left trapped for **thousands** of years—_

_IT WAS BECAuSE YOu ONLY DESERVED TO SuF **FER**. _

Sobs wrack your body and you close your eyes, _wishing_ you didn’t exist.

o0o0o

It takes a few minutes before you’re able to get yourself under control enough to force yourself to your feet, leaning heavily against the railing beside the stairs. If you off-balanced even a bit, you’d fall down them but _maybe that’s exactly what you deserved—_

The sound of a car door closing in the parking lot has you tensing, instincts pushing you to hide behind a pillar as you hear footsteps start up the metal stairway.

Eyes widen when you realize that it’s Roxy coming up, likely having just finished her shift at Skaianet and coming to have a short snack with you guys before going off to bed. You reach out towards her as she stumbles past, unsure what to say, how to _tell_ her that Dave had kicked you out, that you couldn’t stay here and continue to _ruin_ their lives—

_Wait, stumble?_

Your brain overrides your self-pity as you realize that Roxy isn’t walking towards Dave’s apartment door at all— _if you could call her staggering ‘walking’_ —but rather her own apartment door. It shouldn’t have been as odd as it felt— _after all, sometimes she liked to change into her pajamas before coming over—_ but that’s when you finally smell it. _Booze_.

_She’s drunk._

The thought hits you just as you see her fumble with her pockets before producing a key— _she must have a hundred spares because you know she left it on the counter this morning—_ and tumbles into her apartment.

You sniff, wiping sweat and tears from your face as you slowly walk down the hallway. You know you should just leave, make a clear break even if you logically knew Roxy would be upset that you didn’t say goodbye, but there was something… there was something wrong. Despite the fact that you had already ruined one sibling’s night, you couldn’t help but want to find out what was going wrong with the other one.

Slowly, you push open the apartment door— _she left it open, this was not the apartment complex to leave doors open in—_ as the smell of _alcohol_ permeates the air even more. But then, the sound of _crying_.

Before you know it, you’re closing the front door behind you and walking towards Roxy’s bedroom, drawn to her the sound of her cries like a sailor to the siren’s song. Like the sailor, you know this can’t possibly end well—but you can’t help it. Though… at least it’ll be a clean-break when you ruin this encounter bad enough for Roxy to hate you too.

The door creaks open as you peek your head in, heart falling to the bottom of your stomach when you see Roxy sitting on the ground next to her bed, one hand clutching the covers she was sobbing into and the other unsteadily holding a bottle of alcohol that spilled on her and everything nearby.  

“Roxy?” you say softly, clearing your throat as it comes out a bit hoarse.

Roxy’s head springs up and she looks at you, pink eyes bloodshot. Before you can do anything, she’s on her feet and crossing the short distance with surprising speed. Her arms surround you as she buries her face into your shoulder, cries even _louder_ than before if the way your heart was trying to tear itself apart was any indication.

Still, you put your arms around her, rubbing circles on her back as you whisper small words of worthless comfort: _It’ll be alright. Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m here._

That last one leaves you faltering— _after all, Dave had made it very clear how enjoyable you were to be around—_ but Roxy only clutches you tighter, her sobs slowly turning into hiccups as the two of you sink to the ground. It’s not comfortable, but you wouldn’t move even if your legs were at risk of falling off.

After a moment of petting her hair, you find your mouth moving again without your consent.  “What’s… what’s wrong, Roxy?”

She hiccups, hands grasping your shirt. “D… Dirk?”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly, trying to match your breathing to hers, hoping it would stop her from the hyperventilation you knew she had to be close to.

“You… _hic_ … never going ta… to like me… are you?”

You blink, wondering what she’s talking about before it dawns on you. Oh, she was talking _romantically_ , wasn’t she? As uncomfortable as it made you to consider that Roxy saw you as a viable romantic partner— _it wasn’t her fault, you knew; fucking reincarnation—_ you knew that you had to handle this calmly. “No,” you admit, trying to keep your tone light as you try to rub the goosebumps from her arm. “I… I’m sorry—”

“No,” she slurs, making the word sound more like ‘ _nuh’._ “Ah… I knew… yer… _hic_ , wouldn’t. It’s… okie-dokie.”

She giggles sadly, the sound painful to your ears. “And a br… brother is, _hic_ , better than… boyfriend’sh… anyway!”

You grimace, glancing away as shame fills you, knowing that the concept would probably work for any other ‘brother’ but you. Yet, you don’t mention Dave, how you had _ruined_ everything. It was selfish of you, but you wanted to pretend a little while longer until Roxy inevitably found out and you had to leave.

“Wha… wha wrong?”

Amber eyes flicker to hers before shaking your head, patting her hair. “It’s nothing,” you dismiss, looking away from her hazy pink eyes. “Roxy… do you want to talk about why you’re upset?”

She sniffles before slowly reaching into her pocket. There’s a _crinkling_ sound before you see a white piece of paper with bright green writing. Your forehead furrows but you take it, quickly scanning the title: _Skaianet’s Annual Philanthropist's Gala._

Despite your desire to help her, you can’t help but feel bewildered at how an invitation to a gala could have caused her meltdown. “What’s--”

“It’s… _hic_ … ugh… gala,” she whispers, voice slurring with obvious drunkenness. It worries you more than you want to admit. You know you have no right to judge Dave or Roxy’s life choices, but you couldn’t _help_ but be worried about Roxy’s alcohol addiction. She had seemed to cut down while with you and Dave this past week, but if this was how she was when you couldn’t see her…

_Focus, Dirk._

“What’s this gala?” you ask instead, trying to gently untangle her hair with your fingers, knowing how much she enjoyed the sensation.

“ _Hic_ … yearly event buh… by… my company,” she slurs, sniffling with wetness seeping into your shirt where her face was. “Shee… _she_ is going ta… ta be ‘dere…”

“Who?” you ask carefully, deciphering her words after a moment of thought. You hadn’t heard anything about Roxy having ‘friends’— _though, wait, she had said that she had a friend who worked at CrockerCorp, right? Maybe you misheard—_ but you had a few… _choice_ things you wanted to do to them if you ever met. You really need to see what Soulbonds that Roxy had, so you knew _exactly_ who deserved your wrath the most—but now wasn’t the time.

“J... _Jean…_ ” she coughs, grimacing and scrunching her nose as if something had smelled something bad.

“Okay,” you say gently. “Why’s it bad that… _Jean_ is going to be there?”

She looks at you strangely and you wonder what you said wrong before her eyes become unfocused again, blurring with tears. “She… she _hic_ was muh… my friend… buh, but she… she…”

Your hands tighten around her shoulders. “What did she do, Roxy?”

Fresh tears pour down her face. “She, _hic,_ _rejected_ me.”

Understanding _—pity—_ fills you as you look down at her sorrowfully. “Roxy…”

“I, _hic_ , luv… love her so much, Dirky,” she whispers, seemingly unaware that you had called her name. “Buh… but she’s… _hic_ in love with _him_ and—”

“Shhh…” you card your fingers through her hair, rocking her slightly back and forth. “You… you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I understand.”

_Really, you of all people could understand how it felt for the person you loved, whose existence you lived and **breathed** for, to not… to not love you back._

“And I’m sure your company wouldn’t mind if you didn’t attend—” you try but feel her shaking frantically into your shoulders.

“No!” she yells, shaking violently despite your attempt to soothe her. “I… even _hic_ if she don’t… don’t like meh back… I can’t… I can’t move on, can’t _forget her—_ ”

… _you and Roxy had more in common than you thought, didn’t you?_

She continues, getting more and more worked up with every word, “And, _hic_ , I know… it’ll hurts, buh… but I _just want to see her_ —”

You’re not sure if it’s Roxy’s emotions or how badly your emotional shields were broken earlier with Dave, but a memory is flashing through your mind before you can stop it—

_Flashback_

_Rain, or maybe it was tears, fall down your face as you force one foot in front of the other along the road. You’re not wearing a jacket, only a well-used backpack to protect you from the raging storm, but it didn’t matter. The weather couldn’t possibly compete with the hurricane of emotions tearing you apart on the inside._

_Choking, sobs wrack your form as you push yourself forward, forcing yourself to never look back down the path you had just come from. You… you had make your choice. You made up your mind, wrote that note, left it on the bed where **he** was sleeping—_

_Another wave of warmth washes down your face, but don’t hold it back, not even trying to pretend that it’s only the rain from the sky. You knew you shouldn’t be outside right now, that **he** would be so furious after how sick you had just been, but you… you couldn’t stay there, in **that place** , a moment longer. Not when… not when you knew this was for the **best** —_

_You can’t help it. You look behind you—but there’s nothing there._

_Ice runs through your veins are you realize that you had been walking long enough for the building that you had previously been in to have faded with the rest of the city limit—you couldn’t go back and find it even if you wanted to._

_The thought makes everything real, that you truly, wouldn’t see him again. That you had **left**. _

_You’re collapsing to the ground before you can stop yourself, uncaring if anyone saw you crying on the sidewalk in the dead of night._

_You want to see him, **you want to see him so bad—**_

_“Jake,” you whimper, curling into yourself. “ **JAKE**!” _

_End Flashback_

You force yourself from the memory, nodding before you know what you’re doing. When you feel wetness on your face, you realize that you were crying— _again._

“I… feel the same,” you say, voice hoarse. Shit, how long had you blanked out? You hope that you hadn’t worried Roxy.

Roxy peers up at you. “You… _hic_ you do?”

Swallowing, you nod, a fragility that was always there but that you always tried to keep contained coming to the surface. “I… yeah. There… there’s someone I feel the same about,” you admit quietly, ashamed. Weren’t you supposed to be comforting _Roxy_? Yet, what the fuck were you doing? Making this about you like _always_. “He… if I had the chance… I don’t think I would be able to stop myself from seeing him either, no matter… no matter how much it would hurt.”

_No matter that you knew it would permanently destroy every last bit of sanity you had._

You miss something flash through Roxy’s eyes as she seems to hesitate before speaking, “You… you rully… really, _hic,_ missh… miss him?”

_Just this once… you’ll let yourself be honest._

“ _I do,”_ you whisper, trying not to choke on your feelings and pushing them down. “But… this isn’t about me,” you say, trying to return the conversation to her. “This is… about your friend. You really want to see her?”

Both of you glance at the crumpled invitation on the ground beside you before you feel Roxy nod, head bumping your chin. “ _Hic_ … I’m scared…” she whispers and you feel your heart break even more, glasses shards making a bloody mess of your soul. “Ah… _hic_ , dunt.. don’t want to go alone…”

Her eyes widen and her head snaps up to lock her gaze with yours, likely too fast given her following wince. Still, she’s undeterred as she stares at you with intense pink eyes, suddenly clearer than before. “Could… you _hic_ come… come with?”

You hesitate, even though you had been somewhat expecting the question. You weren’t sure if you going was the best idea— _just ask Dave what happened when you were brought along—_ but you also weren’t just going to abandon her to go alone. Besides, you wanted to meet this ‘Jean’ girl that Roxy was in love with…

…and, if need be, decide how to best convince Roxy to…  give up.  

_Even if that was sounding as likely as you forgetting… him._

“I’ll go.”

o0o0o

That night you slept over at Roxy’s— _not like you had anywhere else to go, after all—_ but the two of you aren’t really able to sleep, instead eating ice cream from the carton while watching My Little Pony: Magic Is Friendship as you subtly distract her from drinking more alcohol. As much as you enjoy the brightly-colored cartoon— _especially Rainbow Dash, she’s so spunky—_ you could tell that both you and Roxy were a bit more distracted with internal thoughts.  

After a few hours, Roxy finally starts to drift off and you tuck her into bed, glad that you had convinced her to eat her weight in blueberry-swirl rather than indulge in more liquor. You… you didn’t know what to do about her alcoholism, but you’d seen people in clubs and on the streets who had been consumed by it. At best, they became mere shades of themselves and, at worst, their lives were completely ruined by it. You didn’t want— _would not let—_ that happen to Roxy, but you also knew you had no right to interfere with her life. Not to mention that… that you probably wouldn’t be sticking around for much longer, but, still…

Too exhausted to continue to wonder what you could do about it— _that’s a lie, you were always worrying—_ you collapse on her fancy couch and promptly pass out.

When you wake up, it’s almost noon—the time that you generally make Dave his ‘breakfast.’ You almost walk to Roxy’s front door to do so before remembering… _Dave didn’t want you there._

The thought easily destroys your appetite, but you force yourself over to Roxy’s kitchen anyway, cooking up the eggs you find in the fridge— _there’s not much in there… probably because she had been having every meal with you guys the last few days—_ to make her an omelet.

It’s a few more hours when Roxy comes out, stumbling from a hangover and grateful for the warm meal. You wait for her to ask why you’re not eating with Dave, but she’s surprisingly quiet—probably too nerved up about the gala or hungover to think about anything else. You’re guiltily grateful, wanting to help Roxy get through the gala before being inevitably kicked out by both of your reincarnated siblings.

For the next few hours, the two of you return to watching the television as the time to get ready for the gala tonight slowly approaches. You think that Roxy sends a few questioning looks towards the door, as if suspecting Dave to walk in at any time, but you steadily ignore them. She does leave the apartment once, nearly making your heart stop— _she’s going to know, going to find out what you did—_ but comes back with a package that she informs you that she had bought for you.

You decide not to protest when you see what it is:  a simple black suit with an orange tie undoubtedly for the gala tonight. _Yeah, it was probably a good idea not to show up to a fancy millionaire ball in Dave’s stained jeans and t-shirt, wasn’t it?_

You’d wonder how she got your measurements— _or got it shipped to you so quick; had she… planned this somehow?—_ but simply take it without a word. She looks worried at that, but you just put it on with her direction, surprised at how comfortable and well-tailored to your body it was.  

Then, before you know it, night has already fallen and it’s time to head for the gala that you had learned about less than ten hours ago. The two of you head to Roxy’s little pink convertible in silence. She keeps sending glances towards Dave’s apartment and then back at you, undoubtedly aware by now that something’s going on, but you just buckle yourself into the passenger side seat and shut the door.

She bites her lip but starts up the car, slowly making her way to the fancier parts of Houston, Texas in relative silence. Despite it only being a twenty-minute drive, there’s a stark difference between the two areas with this part of the city being packed in every way possible. Roxy drives until you see a grand building with a thousand lights and hundreds of priceless cars driving around it. Roxy’s car ‘Mutie’ stuck out like a sore thumb, but you found yourself somewhat comforted by the fact.

Given that you and Dave had been hanging around in _nightclubs_ and barely getting by financially with discount coupons, it was a bit… irritating to see this much wealth rolled up into one place— _which is ironic, given where you were trapped for thousands of years_. You wonder briefly if Roxy had ever looked down upon the two of you before disregarding it. Roxy was too kindhearted, no matter what life, to do such a thing—even to those she hated. Besides, the fact that she was living in Dave’s crappy apartment complex was a pretty clear indication she wasn’t that hung up on appearances either.

Still, as a valet takes your car and Roxy slides an arm around you— _dressed in a fashionable and form-fitting pink gown with a violet scarf that only slightly made you want to tear apart the men, and women, that laid eyes on her—_ you can’t help but feel like you were being judged by everyone you walked past. You’re not sure why they were all staring at _you_ — _maybe it was obvious that this was the first time you had worn a suit or they were judging the fact that you had come in Mutie—_ but it made you tighten your grip on Roxy. She glances at you but doesn’t say anything, only squeezing you in return and you can’t help but feel relief that she forgives you for being so ridiculous.

When you walk into the main hall of the hotel— _you were pretty sure this was a hotel, there were too many fancy fountains and buffet tables for it not to be something like that—_ it’s bright and dazzling, a true show of affluence and revenue. Still, given that you had spent thousands of years in the Cavern of Hearts, surrounded by the greatest treasures possible, it wasn’t enough to make you look twice.

Roxy takes a drink from one of the servers and you eye the martini glass but say nothing, understanding that she probably needed it to stay calm before inevitably seeing her friend. Speaking of this ‘friend,’—

“Who should I be on the lookout for?” you ask as you scan the hall, eyes flickering from every well-dressed individual to each server as you wonder what this ‘Jean’ person looked like. It’s a bit crowded, so your Soul Sense was hyperaware as a result— _well, that and because you hadn’t had the easiest last few week—_ but you didn’t want Roxy to be caught unaware.

It’s silent and you glance back, surprised to see Roxy looking… guilty?

“Roxy?” you ask, a bit worried, wondering if she had already seen her friend but hadn’t told you. If you had just been _standing_ there and letting her suffer. “What’s wrong—”

“Dirk,” she says quietly, her voice fortunately clear. “I… there’s something I need to tell you…”

You frown, but start to nod—

_TUG_

Your breath catches and your head snaps up, immediately searching for where the feeling had come from. Before you know it, you’re walking away, only half-hearing Roxy’s confused calls for you.

But it’s fine, or it _will_ be fine. You _knew_ this feeling. After all, this is the _third_ time you felt that sensation, that _feeling_ of a string tugging on your Soul and _pulling_ you forward to find the other end. Given who had been on the other side of the other two _tugs_ , there was only one person it could be.

**_Rose_**.

Quickly, you weave in between people, unable to contain your excitement as you feel something close to _hope_ for the first time in the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps the universe was taking pity on you? _Ha, fat chance at that—_ but you couldn’t deny that you could _feel_ a Soul tugging on yours, calling to you even if its’ owner didn’t know about it.

It still felt unreal that _she_ could be here— _though, you should have suspected that you’d find her in a ballroom, probably outwitting the greatest minds here with her beautiful sarcasm—_ but it still felt unreal that you had found Dave and Roxy, so you knew not to put so much stock in what was should be real or unreal.

You duck past the buffet table, annoyed as people _continue_ to block your way as your thoughts continued to race. Everything about this was impossible and, yet, you didn’t give a fuck. Because finally, _finally_ , that last member of your family was _here_. You… you knew that you’d have to leave after tonight, to prevent from ruining anything else, but you were confident that if the three of them were finally reunited, it’d be fine. Even if Rose didn’t remember, didn’t understand quite yet why she should care so much for Roxy and Dave, as long as _they were together—_

In your eagerness, you inevitably bump into someone, almost making them drop the drink in their hand as you instinctively reach out and steady them with a hand on their shoulder. You’re about to mumble a quick apology and keep following the _tugging_ sensation—

“Oh, I’m sorry,” came a feminine voice from below you, whoever it was likely shorter by half a foot. “Please excuse… wait…”

You really don’t have time for this but then there’s a _hand_ on your right arm, stopping you from following the _tugging_ sensation to its source. Frowning— _and perhaps a bit desperate—_ you look down to see who was keeping you from finding _Rose—_

You freeze, breath catching as you study the individual before you. Even though she is wearing a blue dress, you know that face. You _know_ this person.

It… _this was—_

“Is that… is that you, Dirk?” she asks tentatively, eyes wide as if she’s seen a ghost— _which, ha, you kind of were…_ _especially to **her**. _

“It’s… it’s been a while,” you say carefully, looking everywhere but her face as you squash down the urge to rip your arm from her grasp and flee. Of _all_ the people you could have met?  How was it possible that it was—

“Dirky!” Roxy finally catches up to you, grabbing your other arm before freezing when she saw your ‘conversation’ partner. Her sudden expression, frightened and nervous yet hopeful, throws you for a loop, distracting you from your own internal demons. Why did she look—

“Hi… Jane,” says Roxy shyly, looking down at the ground, a smile on her face but pain more than obvious in her pink eyes.

_Wait—_

“Hi, Roxy,” replies Jane Crocker, tone warm but obviously confused and hesitant as she glances back and forth from the two of you, questions obvious in the way her eyes flickered. “How…” Wait, _wait._ Questions welled up as you try to prevent yourself from gawking at the two of them. The first and foremost being: _How was Jane Crocker here?_ And _why?_ Why did she have to show up here, to bring up memories that you wanted to leave _buried_? Wasn’t it enough that you had _left_? You had _made_ your choice, had accepted you would never… And, wait, how did _Roxy_ and Jane know each other?

Pieces began clicking together in your mind, faster than you could follow as you look back and forth between the awkward pair as understanding dawns upon you. Was… Jane the person that Roxy had one-sided feelings for? Hadn’t her name been ‘Jean?’ Was that just a drunk slur or had Roxy been purposely deceiving you? No, why… why was this happening? And, if Roxy knew Jane, then did she know… and if _Jane_ was _here, then was **he—**_

Someone steps into the side of your vision, placing themselves next to Jane, and breath leaves you as you feel that _TUG_ again.

But the person on the other side of it... _no, not just a person, it was **the** person, **it was** —_

“Why, long time no see… _Dirk_.”

As you stare at the person next to Jane, you think you finally understand what that saying ‘ _deer in the headlights’_ means, the way the body freezes up when they see something so bright yet _dangerous_ that their mind just can’t handle it.

There shouldn’t have been anything alarming about this new speaker dressed in a gray suit jacket, matching pants, and green tie. But every part of you screamed to run away.

_~~Screamed at you to grab him and never let go—~~ _

Shouldn’t have been anything _terrifying_ about those dorky, square glasses that framed sun-kissed skinned and a foreign neutral expression. But even now you could feel yourself tremble.

_~~You wanted him to hold you, to make the **hurt** go away—~~ _

And, most of all, those _emerald eyes_ shouldn’t have made your heart stop like it did.

But they did.

_Always would._

Because this person, on the other end of the string you thought to be Rose…

**_It was Jake_ ** _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you consider me evil if I admitted to laughing this entire chapter? Still, that was intense, at least for me. So much happened: Dave and Karkat having a fist fight, Dirk and Dave’s fight with Dave freaking out from Dirk touching him and unintentionally pushing him down the stairs—I warned you about stairs, bro!—and having a well-timed escape, Dirk being ‘kicked out’ and having another meltdown, Roxy having a breakdown of her own and revealing her unrequited love for ‘Jean’ (or, cough, should I say ‘Jane’), going to the gala, Dirk feeling ‘Rose’ but it turned out to be Jake instead? 
> 
> …yeah, just Dirk’s luck that all those emotional bombs happened at once hehe.
> 
> So, what do you all think? Like I pointed out above, there’s a lot going on and with all of them having their own tangled strings leading to a larger and devastating web. Some might think that Dave is really unstable, but, honestly… you won’t BELIEVE what I’ve put him through. Heheh, any theories? 
> 
> Sorry to all those who suspected Rose to be the one to show up, but, don’t worry, she’ll be getting her grand entrance as well in a while. Hopefully soon, since I’ve got some dark things planned for their future that I don’t think anyone sees coming… 
> 
> Also, I’m so glad that everyone’s been loving the Strlonde family feels! How did this chapter make you feel after all that fluff? XD 
> 
> And what’s everyone’s bets on how the ‘reunion’ between Jake and Dirk is going to go next chapter? Heh, Heart and Hope people… a dangerous combo… 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!


	10. Hope You Remember Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter everyone! Sorry this is a bit later than usual. Between HW (my teachers have NO MERCY), driving 500 miles yesterday, and the business of the holiday, it’s been chaotic. Also there’s the fact I didn’t just want to slop out this chapter—it’s the DirkJake reunion after all! Or, er, Reunion Part 1 at least. 
> 
> Haha, that last chapter was intense wasn’t it? Well, surprisingly, this chapter is nothing in comparison. I originally planned to just keep adding more fuel on the fire but Dirk kind of… shut down. The ‘character decides the path’ and all and Dirk just wasn’t responding… I’m worried, I think I might have actually broke him. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_It was Jake._

Jake English, the adventurer who had literally crashed into the Cavern of Hearts two years ago and made you feel more alive than you had for thousands of years.

Jake English, your _savior_ who had freed you not only from your shackles as a wish-granting spirit, but gave you more than you could ever repay…

Jake English, the beautiful man who you _idolized_ , would give _anything_ for…  that you were in... that you _still were—_

 _Jake…_ who was _standing in front of you._

Jake stares at you, strangely solemn with narrowed brows. It strikes you. If his Soul wasn’t so radiantly beautiful and unmistakable from just standing in his proximity, you’d wonder if this was really him. You’d never seen that expression on his face before. Or, perhaps you had, but only aimed at other people. People who had _really_ angered him—

Your breath catches.

_Jake… Jake hates you, doesn’t he?_

Unaware of your inner meltdown, Jake sips idly at his glass of wine— _he hates wine, why the fuck is he drinking it?—_ and stares you down. You’re pretty sure you can feel Roxy tugging at your arm and, by Jane’s worried expression, she also wasn’t looking forward to this happening in public, but you couldn’t move.

Then, he’s not looking at you anymore, but at _Roxy_.

“Quite a coincidence to see you both here, isn’t it _Roxy_?” questions, but not really questions, Jake, emerald eyes bright as he looks at the smaller woman all ‘nonchalant’.

“Jake,” hisses Roxy, further confirming that she knew him, that she _knew **him**. _ “This isn’t—”

“The place for what?” asks Jake, eyes mockingly wide. You feel sick. This… this wasn’t the Jake you knew. Why was he _acting_ like this? “You certainly thought this’d be a jolly good place for this little _reunion_ , now didn’t you? You’re a smart lass, so I’m sure there were no accidents here, no sir-e!”

Roxy scowls at Jake, fingers digging into your arm so you could feel her shaking. “Oh, come off it, Jake!” she snaps. “If I had known you were going to be this much of a _butt_ about it, I’d—”

“You’d what?” asks Jake, tilting his head, that neutral expression ever-present. “Not parade him off like some sort of show pony at my grandma’s company party?”

“ _Parade_? What crawled into your party drink and died?” snaps back Roxy.

“You guys—” tries Jane, eyes flickering back and forth even as her voice is weak in the face of the tense stand-off from two of the four most important people in your existence.

“Roxy…” you mutter, making Roxy and Jake look at you— _his eyes, they were so…—_ as you finally found your voice even if it came out slow, _toneless._ “You… how do you…”

Roxy looks at you, panicked, but for the first time you just… _didn’t care_.

_You could feel something inside of you start to fade._

“Oh?” Jake raises an eyebrow, almost _sneering_ as he glances back at Roxy. “She didn’t tell you? _Roxy_ , have we become so distant that you won’t tell your new _acquaintance_ of your childhood friends?”

“Not much of friends when you’re halfway across the world half the time and don’t even call every month!” says Roxy, glaring, though you could tell it was a weak attempt.

“Well,” Jake, meanwhile, is completely unbothered by her tone, “obviously not all my trips are _so_ bad since one of them brought your _acquaintance_ back here, are they? As you would _very well know_ since _you_ are the one who made his ID!”

You blink, wheels slowly turning in your head as you look at Roxy, expressionless. “You… you’re _tipsyGnostalgic_. You… you’ve known this entire time?”

“Oh, another secret—”

“Jake!” hisses Jane, clamping down on Jake’s arm— _you hate it, even with everything going on, something **burns** inside of you seeing her hand on him—_ as you direct your attention to Roxy.

She’s the picture of pitifulness, nervously swirling an empty martini glass with her lips puffy from biting them. A part of you wants to tell her to stop that, that you need to get her gum or something to stop that bad habit, but the rest of you… was just _numb_.

“You… you _knew_ ,” you whisper.

Roxy glances nervously at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. “I, Dirk, I was going to tell you, I swear—”

“But you didn’t,” you interrupt, suddenly exhausted in a sad, tired way. “You…”

_You lied to me._

You’re not sure what happens next, but sound just… cuts off. You’re pretty sure that you saw Roxy start to talk, likely a mile a minute as she tries to explain herself, but you didn’t hear any of it. Then, after a moment of you not responding, you think Roxy notices— _or, at least, her eyes widen—_ and suddenly Jake is pushing her aside, neutral expression warring with something far more comforting and familiar, before you feel yourself being tugged away, away from the ballroom and the surrounding guests.

You lose a bit of time, but you’re pretty sure that you that he pulls you through the hotel hallways until pulling you into some room that he has the room key for. He slowly sits you down on the ground next to the door, leaning you against the wall, rubbing your arms soothingly.

But, then, you see a flash of purple and blue— _Roxy and Jane, your mind whispers emptily—_ and then Jake is scowling, fingers tightening around your shoulders, seeming to tell them to _go—_

“—see that he’s in _no condition_ for any more of your _games_ , Roxy _dear—_ ”

“—the one who started it! And Dirk says he’s been alone for a _year_. Where were _you_ —”  

“…stop,” you hear yourself saying quietly, sound _finally_ returning like a gasp of air after being submerged in the water so long. “Just… _stop_.”

You feel yourself shaking and you idly wonder if you’re going to have another panic attack— _you were getting so **sick** of them, but you’d long since accepted that you were the most pathetic being on the planet who couldn’t even control his own body—_ but this feels… different. Like you had been turned off and only now were slowly rebooting, not even sentient enough to be considered alive.

Jake turns his head towards you again, concern now full bloom in his eyes—but it didn’t seem to register in your broken brain. “Dirk?” he asks tentatively. “Are you… back with us?”

“Did I go somewhere?” you murmur, your brain feeling like cotton pushing on the insides of your head.

For some reason, Jake looks even more concerned, but this time it’s Roxy who speaks.

“You…” you look at her with a blank expression, not really comprehending her or the way she bites her lip with semi-terrified eyes, “you just… stopped. You wouldn’t respond to me, or Jake, and I—”

Her voice wobbles and you idly think you should reach out to comfort her, but no part of you moves to do so. Instead, you just stare at her, as if she isn’t really there.

She seems to realize after a moment that you’re not going to speak and the words spill out. “I’m so sorry, Dirk! I-I was trying to tell you. I, I _do_ know Jake. I met him and J-Jane online when I was thirteen and Jake’s grandma offered me a job to move to the Skaianet Branch here before she die—”

“Stop.”

It’s a whisper, but apparently loud enough to silence the entire room. You try to process her words. It was… so much to process, but you went through a mental checklist.

Roxy was childhood friends with Jake English and Jane Crocker. _Somehow_ , your reincarnated sister had known the man who would save you before he had even _saved you. Check._

Roxy was offered a job by Jake’s Grandma— _Skaianet… how had you never learned the name of the multi-billion dollar worth company that let you and Jake travel as well as pamper you like he did?—_ before moving here to Houston, Texas. _Check_.

Sometime during this, Roxy moved next door to Dave Strider, likely using his last name as inspiration while making your identification papers two years ago at Jake’s request in some sort of cosmic coincidence as the ‘hacker friend’ tispyGnostalgic. _Check._

Roxy had _recognized_ you in the bar a week ago but hadn’t said anything this entire week that you had been spending with her and Dave. _Check_.

And tonight… Roxy had told you that she was afraid to meet her one-sided love, _Jane,_ when in reality she was just… wait, what had she been doing…?

It’s still quiet when you come back to reality. You wonder idly if they had been waiting for you to speak, thinking you too close to breaking for sound— _well, they weren’t wrong—_ before deciding that… you really didn’t care.

“You knew…” you begin softly. “but you didn’t tell me. …why? So you could… laugh?”

At your question, Roxy goes deathly pale. “No! No, Dirk, I _swear_ it’s nothing like that—”

“Then why?” you interrupt, meeting her eyes before glancing at Jane and back at your reincarnated sister with exaggerated slowness. “Were you… hoping that my _feelings_ would somehow help yours?”

Roxy flinches and you know that you hit the mark, had filled the final _check_ mark. So, Roxy had only spent time with you because she knew of you and Jake’s past. You’re not sure how she learned about your feelings— _something sickly blooms in your stomach, wondering if Jake had told her, if Jake had **known** that entire time and had been subtly telling you he could never feel the same the entire time—_ but you’d never once doubted her ability to snoop.

For a moment, you wonder if her tears last night regarding her unrequited love for Jane was false before shaking the thought of your head, unable, even with this betrayal right in front of you, to think that Roxy could so skillfully manipulate the situation. It’s likely that she really _did_ feel that way for Jane and, after seeing you and figuring out your feelings for Jake, had likely wanted you to, you don’t know, _distract_ Jake from Jane. Well, if she had just told you, you would have told her what an _impossibility_ that feat was and that you had even _tried_ once upon a time—

You breathe out, a dry chuckle passing from your lips. You’re pretty sure you see everyone in the room grow even tenser at that, but you can’t help the smile on your lips. Even after being freed from the status of a treasure-granting djinn, you were still eternally cursed, weren’t you? Or, perhaps you were just foolish. You had never wondered what life would be like if you ever found your siblings, had thought it impossible, but this… you hadn’t expected _this…_

“Dirk—”

“So… you were just using me this entire time,” you murmur, chuckling softly again.  

Roxy’s eyes widen, frantic.

“No!” Roxy says, pleading. “D-Dirk, I, I could _never_ , I… m-maybe I thought… when I first saw you at the bar, but, it’s _not…"_

“Stop it,” you mutter, curling into yourself.

“ _Please_ , Dirk,” begs Roxy, tears falling freely her face. “I _swear_ , I _love_ you and D—"

“Oh, quit it,” snaps Jake, startling you from your reverie as you feel one of his hands tighten on your shoulder. “Can’t you see he doesn’t want to _hear_ it?”

Roxy furiously swipes at her eyes and it registers to you that she must be crying. “Stay out of this, Jake!” she snaps, voice breaking. “Y-You, it wasn’t supposed to _be_ like this!”

“Well,” says Jake, tone almost cruel. “It _is_ , Miss Lalonde. Bravo for your _fine_ performance—”

“ _Enough_.”

The room seems to freeze and you look up, a bit of surprise on your face as you realize that _Jane_ had been the one to say it. You… you didn’t know her well— _you might have spent a week or so in her presence, but most of that was unconscious—_ but you knew that she was the _poster girl_ of ‘nice words’ and ‘caring.’

Jane, however, is definitely _not_ the picture of sugar and sweets. Her hands are balled, body tense, and, despite being the shortest one there, she seems to suddenly tower over everyone. “That is _enough_ from both of you,” she states, holding up a hand when Jake tries to speak again. “No, _stop it._ Can’t you see how much this is upsetting Dirk?”

If your mind wasn’t already misfiring, you’re certain that you’d be stunned into silence again at the current proceedings. As nice as you knew Jane to be, had heard her to be from Jake countless times during your travels, the fact that she was… concerned about you— _about **you** —_was throwing you for a severe loop.

_Part of you wonders if you had actually hit your head when Dave accidentally pushed you down the stairs and you had just been in a permanent state of shock and fantasy ever since._

You blink again, as if to try and awake yourself, but everything stays the same. _You’re not sure if you’re upset or not that this is all real._

“Jane, I don’t think—” starts Jake but Jane glares, shutting him up immediately. You would laugh, but something sours bubbles in you at the fact that she has such control over him.

To your surprise, Jane kneels down in front of you. Or, almost in front of you—Jake seems to have monopolized the spot, forcing Jane to shimmy to the left in her blue dress to look at you with an achingly gentle expression.

“Dirk,” she says softly, further unnerving you. “Are you okay?”

You really weren’t— _even you could admit that—_ but you just shrug.

Her lips press together and she smooths her dress over her legs. “Do you want us to leave? This is Jake’s room, but I’m sure he would let you stay here.”

“I—”

Jane glares as Jake who, surprisingly, glares back. Or had be been glaring at her the entire time? Why? You knew full well the... _relationship_ between them.

She looks back at you, blue eyes soft. While you can’t really see her Soul— _not everyone has a blinding presence like Jake—_ you can feel the calming waves it gives off. “I think we should talk, there’s… there’s things that need to be said, but not all at once. And not even tonight if you don’t feel well—”

“I’m not leaving,” interrupts Jake and Jane turns on him, about to argue, but his expression is thunderous. “Jane, I am _not_ going.”

“If Dirk doesn’t want you here, then I don’t think it’s up to you,” says Roxy quietly. You’d almost forgotten that she was there—which is somehow ironic.

“Well he definitely doesn’t want _you_ here,” snaps Jake back, making Roxy flinch.

“Stop,” you murmur, making all heads turn to you. You wonder how many times that word, or some sort of variation, had been said tonight. Obviously not enough, though, since problems kept happening. “I… stop it, both of you.”

You nod to yourself, surprisingly glad for the _empty_ feeling inside of you—otherwise, you’re sure that you’d have another panic attack or whatever the hell had just happened where you just checked out from the world.

You glance towards Jake, but chicken out and only manage to make it halfway up his suit before fixating on where his green tie goes under his shirt. “I’ll… talk to you.”

“Dirk,” Jane’s voice sounds worried. “If it’s too much—”  
“It’s fine,” you repeat, leaning against the back of the wall and closing your eyes. “Roxy, can you just… go?”

There’s a sniffle, and your heart hurts even more when you hear it, but you keep your eyes closed as you hear Jane quietly leave the room with Roxy. At the back of your mind, you feel a type of detached amusement. Looks like Roxy got her chance to get Jane alone. _Good for her._

It hits you then that you’re alone. In a room. With _Jake._

Your stomach twists and you wonder if you can keep your eyes closed, terrified what would happen when you opened them. Fuck, had you _really_ said you were going to talk to Jake? Alone? After that _mess_? No, you couldn’t possibly be that stupid.

“…Dirk?”

_No, you absolutely were._

Despite hearing his voice, you make no sign of responding. You hear him sigh, a soft, almost… sad sound.

“Dirk, I…” says Jake softly. “I’ve buggered this up, haven’t I? _Dagnabit,_ this is _not_ how I wanted this to go—”

“You…” you mutter, voice finally coming out. “You imagined us…”

“Meeting again?” Jake sounds bewildered, though you don’t know why. “Why I, of _course_ I—did you _not_ plan to ever…” he sighs, sounding very frustrated. “Dirk, can you just _look_ at me?”

Frightened, but knowing you couldn’t avoid it, you slowly open your eyes.

Jake’s emerald eyes met you, as enchanting as the first time you saw them all that time ago. While you knew that you’d see them again, you couldn’t be struck by how much you had _missed_ that shade of green. How much you missed the person who had them.

He sighs, as if he, too, had waited to see your particular shade of amber— _which had to be one of the most self-indulgent things you’d ever said in your existence, and that was a pretty long list—_ before breathing out. “Hello there, Dirk,” he says quietly. “I… it’s good to see you again.”

You want to look away, to shy from the sudden depth of warmth in his eyes, but you can’t. Instead, you watch as he brings a hand up to his hair, intertwining a hand in the eternally messy locks. “I, well… where do I start—”

“Why… why were you acting like… like that?” you interrupt, surprising both you and him by asking the first question. You couldn’t help it, the _unease_ you feel when you recall how he had spoken to you— _to Roxy—_ when you remember that cold, neutral expression on his face. He… he seemed to be back to normal now, but… you’d never thought you’d _ever_ feel even remotely unsafe in Jake’s presence.

Jake bites his lip, shame darkening his bright eyes and instantly making you want to take back your words. “I… Golly, you’re right. I… No matter how mad I am, that’s no way to treat a lady, a friend at that, and you certainly don’t deserve a single harsh word after all you’ve faced.”

“I… wouldn’t be too sure about that,” you say. “I…  Jake, you _know_ me, you know that I…”

Jake scowls, suddenly annoyed again but in a way that was more than familiar. “Is this about your theory that you somehow destroyed your kingdom and ruined the lives of your siblings?”

For the first time, a spark of life seems to light inside of you as your lips twitch into their best attempt at a scowl. “I, it’s not a _theory—_ ”

_Even as you argue, a part of you, a small but insistent part, loosens. Because, even if Jake disagrees with you, he **knew**. He **knew** about what happened before you were imprisoned in the Cavern of Hearts, about the kingdom of Derse, your 'former' Magic, your siblings and, impossibly enough, **believed** you. Even if he only knew the basics, things you had told him between nightmares when the memories started returning over a year ago, it was still… still amazing.  _

“Do you remember what happened? Have the memories of how your unfair demise played out returned to you during my absence?”

You falter. “I, well _no—_ ”

“Then it’s just a theory,” interrupts Jake, almost cheerfully uncaring. “You know very well that I do not believe you could ruin _anything_.”

“I ruined it between us, didn’t I?” your mouth, as always, moves without your permission.

Jake falters before a small frown appears. “You… well, I won’t say that you didn’t derail the jaunty rhythm we had going, but, _Dirk_ , you didn’t… you didn’t _ruin_ things between us.” Jake wrinkles his nose. “Even… even if you’re off gallivanting with _Roxy_ —”

“There’s nothing wrong with Roxy,” you protest, nose wrinkling as you feel some fight come back to you.

Jake scowls, clasping a hand on your knee as if trying to squeeze sense into you. “Well, I do agree she’s generally a fine, if devious, lass, but she’s definitely gone out of her way to bamboozle us both—”

“I’m sure she means well,” you murmur, an _ache_ spreading throughout you again as you recall how she had... used you. “And… even if she didn’t, it doesn’t matter, it’s just _me_ —”

“Stop right there,” interrupts Jake, giving you a bit of the evil eye. “What _nonsense_ are you talking about? I’ve told you before, Dirk, that you _do_ matter—I thought you’d learned that by now? Or, at least, that _no one_ has the right to take advantage of you no matter the circumstances.”

You’re about to interrupt— _to remind him that, no, that doesn’t apply to you because you weren’t a ‘person’ with right like everyone else—_ when his face sours. “Especially since Roxy is your… _significant other._ Honestly, I knew she didn’t have luck with relationships, and if this is why—”

His words don’t really reach you, your mind still echoing on the ‘ _significant other.’_

“Wait, what?” you ask intelligently, cutting him off from whatever tirade he had been spouting.

You almost wish you hadn’t because, suddenly, there’s a hint of that expression from before on his face—the one that makes your heart race and a chill run up your spine. “I saw you,” he says simply, as if that explains everything… which it didn’t.

“Saw what?” you ask hesitantly.

He waves a hand through the air between you, obviously frustrated. “I was _there_ , Dirk. Around midnight, snow on the ground despite it being bloody  _Houston_ , nightclub _parking lot_. Any of this ringing a _bell_?”

You stare at him, still bewildered and he lets out an angry huff. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Dirk, I know about you and Roxy’s _romance—_ ”

“Wait,” you hold up your hands, feeling much like you were trying to catch smoke as it rose up from a fire. “You think we’re _what_?”

Jake’s hand tightens on your knee, almost gripping hard enough to bruise. “Don’t bother trying to deny it, Treasure. Quite a _picturesque_ moment, wasn’t it? I’m sorry to have been some sort of voyeur, but I was admittedly, obviously _mistakenly_ , eager to see you after having heard nothing from you in a _year_ and _rushed_ there after the call—”

“Who called you?” you ask, bewildered.

“Jade, my cousin,” he waves a hand, stopping you from answering obviously very fired up about this, “and there I was, watching like an _idiot_ , as you _passionately_ embraced and, if that wasn’t enough, watched you just _stare_ in her eyes like there was some sort of _camera crew_ watching—”

What…

_What the fuck?_

Unable to deal with this bullshit any longer— _why did the universe keep doing this to you!?—you_ blurt out your next words, “For the love of Magic, she’s my _sister_.”   

You watch as Jake pauses, blinking as if trying to digest your words before staring at you blankly. “I… I don’t quite know what you mean by that, Treasure. I mean, I… Roxy is like a sister to me too, but I don’t plan on kissing—"

“No, I mean she’s _actually_ my sister,” you press even as your heart skips a beat. He… he had called you _Treasure_ , hadn’t he? Did he even notice he was doing it? Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been calling you that almost non-stop for a year, an inside joke among the two of you, but… still…

_No, Dirk, focus._

“I,” you sigh, bringing a hand up to rub the back of your head before sighing again. “I… do you remember when I… told you about my siblings? Back… before I was imprisoned?”

“Of… course I do, mate,” answers Jake, even if he still looks quite confused, “we were just talking about them and Derse a moment ago if you do remember.”

“Right,” you murmur under your breath, “well… she is one of them. The High Princess of Derse and Rogue of Void… Roxanne, or, as we called her… Roxy.”

Jake studies you for a moment before sighing, shifting upwards.

For one terrified moment, you think he’s going to leave. You almost reach out to stop him— _which would be entirely pathetic because **you** were the one who left him, you’d long ago decided that you had no place in his life—_ but stop as he simply moves over to the spot in the wall beside you, his body _warm_ beside you as he turns his head to look at you better.

He nods and you swallow, wondering where to begin.

“I…” you chuckle tonelessly, “you wouldn’t _believe_ the month I’ve had.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note, I’ll probably upload the one-shot (written so long ago) where Dirk has his first nightmare/memory of the past with Jake comforting him. It’s short, but has some interesting little clues in it. 
> 
> So, mostly just Jane taking control like the badass friend she is and Jake and Dirk convo. Though some hints towards the shared past of Jake, Dirk, and Jane… which is sure to just be a bunch of miscommunications but, eh, it’s how it goes.
> 
> I was initially going to finish up the DirkJake reunion here but I didn’t want to rush it yet was still determined to get this chapter out today. I’ll probably combine the rest of this initial conversation between them with the aftermath of Roxy and Dave’s actions in the next chapter, so that should be fun. Basically, it’s going to be a lot of fires being put out… at least temporarily ;)
> 
> The storm continues to brew though… so don’t you worry. Last chapter’s intensity has nothing on some of the things I have planned for the future, so look for ward to that hehehehehe… 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!!!


	11. Heart Cannot Lie (Even If You Do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: After a year since Dirk left Jake, they meet again. Unable to handle this along with the stress of his fight with Dave and the knowledge of Roxy's deceit, Dirk breaks down. After he finally calms, he agrees to talk to Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a BUSY three months of class up ahead, so this might be the last chapter for a bit. I'll never abandon this story, don't worry, but things may be a bit touch and go so... yeah, let's see how this goes. 
> 
> Please enjoy! Another calm chapter (er, relatively) for those who need the breather! Kinda a recap on what's occurred thus far.

You told him everything.

Or… at least everything that had happened in the last month. You kind of skimmed over the whole ‘ _living homeless for a year’_ and _‘beaten up and fever delirious’_ when Dave found your pathetic ass beside the rest of the trash in an alleyway.

Instead, you skipped to how Dave had ‘let’ you stay at his house during the freak blizzard— _again, you knew better than to bother Jake with unnecessary details—_ and how he randomly hired you to be his housekeeper.

A bit embarrassed, you then recount how you had met Roxy at Dave’s nightclub and how those events had led to… what Jake saw in the parking lot. How she had been completely _wasted_ —and unaware, of course, of your familial connection—and how you hadn’t been able to resist searching her Soul to confirm what your heart already knew. Still, the fact that Jake had seen such a thing… it made your chest ache in a strange way.

For whatever reason, Jake looks a bit hesitant before nodding, helping loosen the tight feeling in your chest as you slightly backtracked into the fact that your _Magic_ was back. You had only told Jake a bit about Magic— _it had seemed rather irrelevant during that initial year since you had no sigh of your abilities remaining… though you somewhat suspected that your breakdowns were a reflection of your unbalanced powers—_ and how, very long ago, you had been the _Prince of Heart._

Despite how absolutely awful the last twenty-four hours had been, you almost cracked a smile when you saw the pure _awe_ on Jake’s face as you, carefully, lit your hand alight with maroon lightning. Every day you could your powers coming back stronger and stronger… though, given how unbalanced your emotions had been lately, that was actually not the best thing.

Because you knew he would ask, you admit that you hadn’t found your third sibling… found _Rose_ yet. You had only told him the bare minimum about your siblings, that you had two sisters and a brother, due to the guilt threatening to eat you alive every time you tainted their memories with your attention.

He didn’t say anything to it, a strange look in his eyes as you admitted not knowing where Rose was yet. You know that it was very unlikely that he was judging you for not being able to find a reincarnated sister that died thousands of years ago and may not be in the same _country—with Dave and Roxy in the fucking apartment complex, the universe better not screw you over by putting Rose in another continent—_ but you couldn’t help feel ashamed anyway.

How many times had you told him, after your memories— _nightmares—_ started to fill you in on the past, that you would do _anything_ to make it right with your family? That, while you didn’t know what happened, that you knew that you had _failed_ and just wanted… just wanted to apologize…

…and, yet, now that the universe had presented you the opportunity to try and make up for a _portion_ of your numerous mistakes to your siblings, you were _still. Fucking. Up._

Even though you knew it wasn’t your business to tell, you couldn’t help but tell him about the issues Dave had been having with Karkat— _especially after you confirmed that Dave’s ‘friend’ Jade was the same Jade who was Jake’s cousin whom he had spoken about often—_ and how that had ultimately resulted in the fight last night that resulted in Dave losing his job. And how that had led to the argument that… that…

“He _hates_ me, Jake,” you whisper, clutching a hand to your tie, undoubtedly ruining Roxy’s— _wow, it suddenly hurt to think about her… how sad—_ hard work to make you look presentable. “He, I can’t fucking blame him. I, I shouldn’t have _pushed—_ ”

“Codswallop,” interrupts Jake, surprising you into looking at him. In general, he had only inserted a comment or two as you poured out your guts, surprisingly patient compared to how… irritable he had been just half an hour ago. “Sound like to me that your little brother has _quite_ a bit on his shoulders—”

“I know,” you agree miserably, banging your head against the wall behind you as you close your eyes behind your shades. “That’s why—”

A hand shoots up to the back of your head and your breath hitches, catching Jake’s annoyed emerald eyes. “Don’t do that,” he scowls, rubbing a _warm_ thumb over where you had hit your head, despite the fact there sure wasn’t to be a bruise. “And that’s not what I meant. I’m sure that he’s a fine lad, anyone related to you is sure to be amazing, just that it sounds like he has a few… inner demons, for a turn of phrase.”

Suddenly, you remember back to when you had first looked at Dave’s Soul, in the living room about two weeks ago. Wow… had it only been two weeks? Despite recounting the entire story to Jake, it… it felt a lot longer.

But back to the point. When you had looked at Dave’s Soul, you had seen quite a _lot_ of _black_ Soulbonds. Black Soulbonds were Bonds that were detrimental, _corrupting,_ to the person they were connected to. Most people had a few but Dave… the majority of his had been black or at least gray, not to mention that what colored Bonds did exist— _such as the bright red of Karkat—_ had been fraying while the black ones only had seemed to grow _thicker_.

Which… which shouldn’t have been possible. You needed constant contact with the source of the Bond to affect it like that. Sure, memories were a good substitute, but keeping up multiple black Bonds like that…

A sudden desire to look at Dave’s Soul thrums inside you. It was foolish, since Dave would never let you near him again—

“—Tre— _Dirk_?”

Jake’s voice brings you from your thoughts and you frown apologetically. “Sorry,” you say, fidgeting when you notice how close he is to your face. “I… I was thinking about a few things.”

“About what?” asks Jake curiously.

As always, you can’t help but answer him. “My powers,” you say with a frown. “I… I’m still getting used to them, so maybe… maybe I was wrong when looking at Dave’s Soul?”

He frowns. “Dirk. You said that he _pushed you down the stairs—_ I would say that qualifies for being affected by those ‘black’ Bonds you were talking about.”

“He didn’t _push_ me,” you protest, despite the unease that rolled through your stomach. “I reached out to touch him and he reacted like I should have known he would have—it wasn’t his fault we were on the stairs.”

Jake huffs, obviously quite displeased with the answer. “He still should have been more careful,” he says boldly. “What would I have done if you had gotten hurt? I would have never forgiven myself.”

A pulse of warmth fills you even as you try to push it down. Why… why did Jake always have to do this? To say such comforting and _easily misinterpreted phrases_. Sure, when you were fresh from imprisonment, you hadn’t understood his initial awkwardness at your questions and phrases. Then, as time went on and you learned about the social customs of the current world, the tables turned. Then it was _you_ who felt awkward at various gestures and words Jake said while he didn’t seem to have a care in the world as he pampered you.

It was one of the reasons… one of the reasons you had to go.

You shake your head, frowning to yourself as you banish the thoughts from your mind. It definitely wasn’t the time to get caught up in ghosts of the past… even if you were technically surrounded by them. “It doesn’t matter. Dave hates me,” you glance towards the door of the room and clench your fists, “and, Roxy—”

Jake snorts and you glare at him. “Jake, don’t—”

“Sorry, Dirk,” he sighs, tangling one hair in messy brown locks. Seems like Jane hadn’t been able to get him to brush it… as always. “Just… I believe you, Treasure, of course I do, but to know how they have been treating you…”

“I think you got that turned around,” you point out, wondering how he had somehow glossed over the fact that you had mooched off Dave— _who was already fucking poverty level—_ and nearly got Roxy _killed_ in a freak car crash— _though Jake had seemed more upset about the other guy—_ to get _that_ result.

He shakes his head. “No, Dirk. I don’t care that they don’t remember you. Even if you weren’t their bloody brother from another life, you’ve been _nothing_ but a perfect friend and confidant. Dave had no reason to be angry at you and Roxy shouldn’t have sprung this on you without telling you about our connection tonight.”

You feel as if the air itself has been stolen from your chest— _if Derse Dave had been here, you’d asked him if there was a Thief of Breath around—_ as you stare at this man— _and, wow, he hadn’t been scrawny when he found you two years ago, but now at twenty-one… he was **fit** —_who just kept on throwing you for a loop. Seriously, you were the former spirit of the Cavern of Hearts/High Prince of an ancient kingdom of Magic, and _he_ was the one that seemed impossible…

Grateful for the darkness of the room to hide the blush that’s surely on his face, you look away, pretending to be interested in studying the carpet. It was definitely fancy. A sure sign that this hotel was doing well for itself besides hosting the Skaianet Annual Gala…

Suddenly, there was a hand on your shoulder and you’re looking back, breath once again taken away by the intensity of Jake’s gaze. He licks his top lip, seemingly hesitant. “…Dirk, about… about the reason you left—”

_Creak_

Your head snaps to the door, suddenly tense, as you see a pale hand slowly open it wide.

Despite the fact that it’s stupid, your heart clenches when you see it’s Roxy. She’s biting her lip, still not quite in the room, as she clutches the doorknob. You think she might be shaking, but whether that’s because she’s decided to hit the liquor during Jake and your… info dump… or because she was as nervous as you to see one another again.

“What is it, _Roxy_?” asks Jake, sounding quite annoyed to your side. You scowl and lightly press your knuckles to his right jacket, unable to even slightly hit him if you tried.

He gives you no mind and Roxy glares at him for a moment before returning her gaze to you, pink eyes obviously red-rimmed. You feel your heart ache again. Had you… had you made her cry? Or had Jake? Either way, even if… if you were mad at her, anything that made her cry was… wasn’t worth it.

“What is it, Roxy?” you repeat Jake’s words, though in a much softer tone. Jake and Roxy both look at you in surprise and you see Roxy’s shoulders slump in what looks to be relief.

_You’re not going to lie, the idea that you had even a little bit of influence over Roxy’s mood… it felt kind of nice._

What relief echoes inside of you grows cold as you hear her next words.

“Dave called,” she says softly, biting her lip again. “He… he wants to see you—”

“Nope, no, no, no, no, _no_ ,” says Jake very quickly, standing and blocking your view of Roxy as he shifts to be in front of the door. “I thought we agreed that _that spectacle_ was quite enough for tonight? Not to mention the last miserably twenty-four hours of it—”

“Jake,” you try, but are cut off by Roxy, her hands tightening on the door as she pushes it open as Jake tries to close it.

“That’s not your decision!” she says, quite angry as she plants a heeled shoe in the way of the door closing. “I… I know I messed up tonight, but Dave—”

“—has _also_ made a right mess of things as I’ve heard!” spits out Jake, hand clenching by his

side.

“At least he’s trying to _apologize_!” Roxy spits out. “While _you—_ ”

“Wait, what?” you interrupt, somehow silencing the conversation— _thank goodness, you… you didn’t want to know what Roxy was about to say—_ with your quiet words. “Dave… wants to _apologize_?”

You stare at Roxy for a moment before she gives a hesitant nod. Still, you don’t know if she’s telling the truth. Not that you thought her a liar— _though you knew that she more than adept at bending the truth, tonight’s display proving that—_ but the idea that Dave would want to apologize to _you_ …

“I’ll go,” you say suddenly, watching Roxy and Jake’s eyes widen. It seems that, even though Roxy was the one asking you, she hadn’t expected you to agree—or at least so quickly. You wonder what, or even if, Dave had told her about what had happened last night before you went to her apartment…

“Dirk,” you look over to Jake whose eyes crinkle, as if… pleading? “You don’t have to do this—and certainly not so late at night. Stay here. I’m sure that if _really_ wants to apologize he can wait until tomorrow—”

“Jake,” says a voice, startling you to look at Jane behind Roxy, on the other side of the hotel door. You… had forgotten that she was here. Still, it twists your gut as you watch her look at Jake, a stern expression on her face. “It’ll be okay. Dirk already said that he would talk to us all later, right?”

With Jane suddenly looking at you, eyes rather stern and… maternal— _where the fuck had that thought come from?—_ you couldn’t do anything but nod. It doesn’t occur to you until then that… this is really happening. After an almost solid twelve months of certainty that you would never see Jake again, here you were: talking with him, your reincarnated sister, and… Jane… while your reincarnated brother apparently wanted to _apologize_ to you…

… _was this really your life?_

Instead of delving too deeply into that line of thought, you return your gaze to Roxy and nod. She swallows, stepping out the door and you stand up— _wait, how had you not do that yet? Wow, you had probably looked so pathetic on the ground as they all argued over you—_ and make a step towards it—

A hand catches your shoulder and you don’t even have to look back to know it was Jake. With the renewed knowledge that Jake was _here_ , you suddenly didn’t have the courage to look back at him. It was beyond rude, but you’re sure that your heart would explode— _or, worse, you wouldn’t be able to walk back out, would give in and stay here all night or even longer—_ in your chest.

“Meet me noon tomorrow at Grub Shack,” he says, fingers lightly digging into the curve of your collarbone— _you suddenly resent wearing a suit._ “Is that alright, Treasure?”

Your heart skips a beat. There it is again. His… nickname for you.

_What you wished you were to him._

Unable to speak, you nod, still not looking back at him. You think you see Jane looking at you with a worried expression but you keep your gaze locked to the ground, not moving until you feel those warm fingers slowly release you. Even then, it’s a moment before you walk forwards, moving past Roxy without so much as a look.

After all, you knew where the car was. You didn’t need her to show you.

And, so, for the second time in your existence, you walk away from Jake English without looking back… but, this time, with the promise of meeting again.

o0o0o

The ride back is… quiet, for lack of a better word.

Like on the way there, Roxy is the one driving, the only one out of the two of you knowing how to navigate back to the crappy apartment complex, but you know very well that, in a previous life, she could talk, juggle, and use Magic all in the same breath so it wasn’t the driving that was distracting her from a conversation.

Still, you didn’t feel… up to trying to start one. Honestly, you _were_ mad at her for keeping her friendship with Jake and Jane, her _knowledge_ of you, hidden. You wondered what it meant for your psyche if you were able to draw up legitimate anger against your reincarnated sister— _who could you use as a footstool for the rest of her life and it still wouldn’t make you even for your guilt—_ instead of just instantly forgiving her. It disgusted you, but every time you tried to speak you found your throat to be dry.

A rebellious part of you wondered why _she_ wasn’t saying anything. After all, she should be defending her actions, telling you that you had no right to know about her personal life and that she _hadn’t_ been using you as a distraction to get Jane alone.

Instead… _nothing_.

Given that she was a chatterbox, it… worried you. Yet, again, you couldn’t find anything to say and, thus, said nothing at all.

It takes forever— _it goes too fast—_ before you’re pulling up to the apartment complex. Silence still reigns supreme between the two of you as you open the passenger side door and slowly make your way towards the stairs.

The cold bite of metal meets you as you grip the stairwell, trying to steady yourself in a way that has nothing to do with being awake for over a day and everything to do with internal concerns. The last time you had been on these stairs, Dave had made it _very_ clear how little he wanted you around, and now he was going to _apologize_?

You glance back at Roxy who is lingering by the car, apparently not wanting to “crowd” you or whatever the hell was going through the mind of that sister of yours. You really should try and take care of that… but you needed what little energy you had to be able to handle Dave.

_She probably knew that, didn’t she?_

Still, you glance towards the top of the stairs, forcing yourself to take one step and then another until your motion is mechanical enough to make a robot proud. You don’t know how this is going to go, what Dave is going to say— _if he actually wanted to see you, this could just be a… trick by Roxy or whatever—_ or anything at the moment. You’re completely out of your element.

You’re even more out of your element as you walk up that last step and look down the hall to see a familiar blonde-haired boy sitting in front of the farthest door.

Freezing, you debate how many injuries you would get if you threw yourself off the stairs _right now_. It’d already happened less than a day ago, you’re certain that you could avoid death a second time.

The option is taking out of your hands when Dave’s head swerves to look at you, sight easily narrowing on you in the otherwise abandoned hallway. You swallow, wondering if Roxy felt sorry enough to drive you somewhere—

Almost faster than you can track, Dave stands and walks towards you. You might as well as be a statue with how much you can move, can _breathe_ , as your reincarnated comes closer.

Then, as he is barely a meter away from you, he pauses. He’s shaking, hands clenched tightly in his usual long-sleeved shirt, and you wonder if he’s about to punch you—

Suddenly, he’s moving faster than you can follow and you brace for impact—

Your breath leaves you as he collides, his arms wrapping around you and he shakes uncontrollably as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“F-Fuck, Dirk,” his hands tightened around your sides, shaking like a leaf in a storm, “I _fucked up_. I-I know I was an ass, but, then, you didn’t come back last night, and I, I wondered if I had fucking _killed_ you and I _warned you about stairs, Bro—_ ”

Wet tears stain the crook of your neck where it meets the suit but you really couldn’t possibly care, too stunned by Dave’s words. Though, it was becoming more and more like gibberish as Dave continued to get worked up and, _fuck_ , is he starting to _hyperventilate—_

“Dave, _shh_ ,” you say, finally putting your arms around him as his own began to tighten more around you. “You have nothing to apologize for—”

He snorts, though it comes out as a wet, pitiful sound. “Why the _fuck_ do you always do that?”

You look down at him, bewildered, and open your mouth to respond but he interrupts you. _“That._ You’re _always_ taking the blame even when it’s not your goddamn fault. It drives me crazy, makes me say stupid _shit_ I shouldn’t and use you like a verifiable punching bag like I’m fucking Rambo or something—”

An affectionate smile crosses your lips and you stroke his back, trying to ignore the raised bumps and scarring you’re regretfully becoming familiar with every time you do. “It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ ,” insists Dave, finally looking up at you, surprising you when you realize that he’s not wearing his shades and has left his red eyes bare for all to see. He seems to falter when his eyes lock with yours.

You push up your shades, hoping that having them off would comfort him—but he only flinches. Still, he doesn’t look away, more than a hint of pleading present in those red orbs. “I’m really fucking sorry,” he says. “I, that was just such _bullshit_ and, I, sometimes I freak out when people… when people touch me, but that shit is on _me_ and I wouldn’t blame you if you left and never looked back but—”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening. “Dave… I thought you kicked me out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “What the fuck are you talking about? I said… I mean, forget that bullshit I said, but at the same time don’t, cause I remember saying that I _wasn’t_ kicking you out and—”

Dave’s getting worked up again, but you can’t help but be uselessly dazed by his words. He… he wasn’t kicking you out? Despite the fact that it… it obviously wasn’t working out? No, you had to go. Not just because you were ruining his and Roxy’s lives from just being around, but because, without a job, Dave would have a hard enough time paying rent and buying food.

The migraine to end all migraines is creeping up, but you ignore it, sighing. You squeeze his shoulders, trying to calm him. “Dave, _Dave_ ,” you say, getting his attention. “I… I can’t stay.”

His eyes snap back to yours and his mouth opens—

“You can’t go!”

You blink, turning to where Roxy is standing two steps behind you—she had been the one to speak, though it’s very likely that Dave might have said the exact same thing.

It’s the first time the two of you really look at each other and her eyes are watering again, making your stomach twist into an even tighter mess of knots.

“Please, Dirk,” Roxy’s lip wobbles as she clutches the railing beside her. “Y-You _can’t_ go. I’m sorry. I’m _so sorry_ for lying to you and—”

“Wait,” Dave sounds bewildered. “What did you do? Has everyone been fucking with Dirk today?”

She snorts, a watery sound. “Yeah,” she affirms. “We’ve all been such _dickheads_ to one of the kindest, sweetest, most _awesome_ people in the universe…” Her voice wobbles. “S-Someone who’s like, like a _brother_ —”

She sobs, rushing forward to hug you and, suddenly, you have two armfuls of siblings, both crying in their individual ways but both equally distressing. You’d wonder how you got into this situation if you weren’t wracking your brain for a way to _fix_ it.

But, it seems that Dave has you covered.

“Please,” he murmurs, biting his lip in a way that’s so reminiscent of Roxy— _damnit, you hoped that wouldn’t rub off him in this life too._ “I… I don’t know how to make this right, but, I swear, I-I won’t freak out like that again. And, and if you’re worried about me not having a job, I’ll make it work, can’t keep this money-making animal contained. Just…”

He exhales, hiding his face in your shoulder once again as Roxy holds your other side. “Please don’t go.”

Thoughts dance across your head and heart, confusing you between what you logically knew you had to do and what you emotionally _wanted_ to do. You’d thought that you had suffocated the latter, locked it away after thousands of years of servitude, but it seems… being with your siblings— _and… and Jake—_ had made you unbelievably selfish.

Still, you knew at the end of the internal debate that there was only one answer.

“Alright, I’ll… I’ll stay.”

o0o0o

After that, the three of you stumbled into Dave’s apartment, putting on some ridiculous cartoon as you all gorged yourself on ice cream. It didn’t matter that Dave was still in his liquor-smelling work clothes— _fuck, had he even changed out of them from yesterday? You should have been here—_ and you and Roxy still dressed in your suit and dress. The three of you didn’t care, huddling close— _even Dave when you tried to give him space and he just glared and pressed in tight—_ as you avoided the _many_ elephants in the room.

There was no doubt that Roxy was curious about what all occurred with Dave and Dave wondering what the fuck happened with Roxy, but you were really _done_ for the night and just commented on the ironic themes in the cartoon— _Dave quickly jumped on board with that and Roxy just as adeptly started pointing out the ‘subliminal’ messages and ‘obvious’ relationships._

But before you knew it, your eyes were closing and you were asleep, leaning against Roxy who gently stroked your hair with her manicured nails.

When you wake up, it’s from light shining through the blinders of the window and neither of your siblings are anywhere to be seen. You groan, sitting up in the suit— _fuck, that was a rocky road stain on it, wasn’t it?—_ as you look around before seeing the clock.

_11:18_

You hum to yourself, half-wishing that you were still asleep but half-relieved that the night before hadn’t been a dream as you stand up and stretch. While you were glad that you’d, mostly, reconciled with Dave and Roxy, a lot of things had happened that you really needed to get your mind around before you would be able to function properly. Not to mention that Jake apparently wanted to meet you at noon at someplace called the _Grub Shack—_

Your eyes widen, remembering that you had promised him to meet up at a restaurant— _was it even a restaurant? Grub meant food so obviously it was a food-related place, right?—_ despite the fact that you had _no clue where it was_. And, fuck, it was already past eleven, how the hell were you going to make it on time?

Padding into the kitchen, a note on the counter catches your eyes and you pick it up, crinkling the paper in your hands as you read it:

_Yo! Dave here. ~~Shit, that sounds stupid. Can you restart a note—~~_

_Anyway, I got to go job-hunting like a fucking tool and Roxy apparently has stuff at her work to do too and said that you had some sort of lunch date so I guess we’ll all see you at dinner?_

_~~We already agreed you can’t run off so don’t try~~ _

_See you later,_

_Dave._

An involuntary snort rises to your lips and you shake your head, wondering how you’d gotten such a cool younger brother. Really, the world didn’t know what it was missing out on. _Of course, you knew that since far too little people appreciated the genius of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff…_

Though, the fact that both he and Roxy were gone definitely made your goal of finding the Grub Shack even harder. Oh well, you could probably walk, or run, to wherever

_Knock Knock_

Blinking, you glance towards the door, wondering who it could possibly be. Maybe Roxy had come back from work already? Not like it would be anyone else. She’d probably lost the multiple pairs of Dave’s key she had somehow made behind your backs this week.

Heading towards the door, you really don’t think as you open it, expecting to see a familiar smiling face— _which had, luckily, returned to former glory after you joined in on a few of her jokes last night—_ and head of blonde hair.

Instead, a scowl matched with messy white locks greets you as their owner stares up at you with hard red eyes.

“Why the fuck are _you_ here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Karkat! Haha, even if it's a while till the next update, at least this is not too much of a cliffhanger? 
> 
> For now, the storm has settled down quite a bit and it’ll be quite a few ‘non-tense’ chapters coming up… enjoy them while they last. 
> 
> It’ll be fine, besides the fact that we (well, you) still don’t know where Rose is… Dave and Karkat are still VERY much at odds… and Dave/Roxy/Dirk/Jane/Jake/EVERYONE have serious unresolved issues… and Dirk and Jake are still oblivious idiots… and some dark force is still manipulating things behind the scenes…
> 
> …yeah, besides all that (and more, definitely more). Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think! I LOVE reading all the feedback on this series!


	12. Blood Is Thicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Dirk and Jake finally talk for the first time in a year. Knowing it's not the best place to completely catch up, they agree to meet up at the Grub Shack at noon the next day. Dirk then makes the first necessary steps to reconciliation with Dave and Roxy, the latter very sorry about how they treated him. Yet, when things seem temporarily settled, Karkat shows up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’m back! Three weeks, yikes. But that may be the norm if this next month of class is the same as the last. I hope not. 
> 
> Oh well, for now, please enjoy! Some interesting stuff in this chapter! ^V^

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

It only takes a moment to register the fact that it is none other than Karkat Vantas on Dave’s apartment door before you’re crossing your arms, expression going automatically neutral. “I live here,” you answer, a bit too lost and surprised by this new development to say anything more intelligent. _Great job Strider, let’s aggravate the ex-childhood friend of Dave some more, why don’t we?_

He scowls, obviously as impressed as you are with your response. “What the fuck? Dave wasn’t lying about that shit? He really let a random homeless person he found live in his apartment!?”

Ignoring the fact that you had been very close to getting kicked out yesterday— _or was that just in your head? Dave… Dave had really acted like he hadn’t wanted you to leave, but he also was making a lot of… questionable decisions lately, so who knows—_ you nod. “Yeah.”

“What the ever-loving fuck!?” Karkat throws his arms up, pacing back and forth on the front step. You weren’t even sure he even remembered you were there as he ranted. “What the _fuck_ is that idiot thinking? Is he even here? Does he really leave you alone here with no one watching you—”

“I’m not going to steal anything,” you say, tensing at the accusation.

“Really?” He stops, pinning you with a disbelieving stare. “You’re expecting me that you really are playing _housekeeper_ out of the goodness of your heart and not fucking casing the place?”

Wow, and you thought you were paranoid. Though, to be fair, those paranoid generally turned out to be right in the end. Still, the idea that _you_ would steal from _Dave_ … it really pissed you off.

“I would _never_ do that to Dave,” you say, straightening up to look down at Karkat. You were taller than the albino by quite a bit, but he didn’t even flinch.

“How am I supposed to know that?” he argues, red eyes narrowed angrily. “I can’t believe that Dave thinks you’re trustworthy—”

“It’s pretty obvious who Dave trusts the most right now,” you interrupt, caught between vindication and guilt when you see Karkat flinch at that.

You see him grit his teeth. “That’s not—what the hell do you know!? You’ve literally known him for a week!”

“Two weeks,” you correct automatically, blinking when you realize that’s true. It felt like it had been forever since Dave had first picked you up in that alleyway. So much had changed since then, too. Given that, at one point in your miserable existence, the highlight of the _century_ was some explorer dying in the traps of the Cavern of Hearts, you were surprised you weren’t getting whiplash by how much had happened in so short of time.

“Two weeks?” Karkat sneers, looking close to a meltdown. “I’ve known him for fucking _years!_ I was the one there when the other foster kids called us freaks for our eyes! I was the one who saved his ass from the police every time he taunted them! I was the one who tried so hard to find him when he fucking _disappeared_ for two years and _you_ **_are the one he fucking trusts_** _—_ ”

“Karkat. _Karkat_!” you shout, taking a step back as you try to block out the sudden, _powerful_ , influx of emotions you felt from him. For such a small guy, he definitely held a _lot_ of Heart-related issues and feelings. You weren’t sure what aspect he was, but it was _definitely_ relationship and bond oriented if this outburst of his was any indication.

_Or, maybe, it was just because of how much he cares about Dave…_

At the thought, something inside of you wilts. He… he was right. Dave might be your reincarnated brother but, when it came to time actually spent with him in this life, _Karkat_ sounded like he held that top position. Even with his relationship with Dave in disarray right now, there were still so many signs— _from Karkat and Dave both—_ that the two knew things about each other that no one else did. You… were jealous of him— _how could you not be?—_ but acting like this… it helped no one. Especially not Dave.

“Karkat,” you say again, a bit quieter but still firm as Karkat stares at you with wild eyes. You know that he had held back in his fight with Dave the other night, but you doubt he’d grant you the same restraint if you weren’t careful. “I know that you care about Dave.”

He stills. His mouth opens for a moment, then closes, staring at you with… confusion? Hurt? Some sort of mix of vulnerability and suspicion. “…what?”

You sigh, uncrossing your arms in an effort to seem less confrontational, even if it makes you feel pretty vulnerable yourself. “Look, I obviously wasn’t around when this whole fight between you guys started, and I don’t know how you guys acted when you were friends—” Karkat flinches at the ‘ _were’_ and you can’t help the tinge of pity you feel for him. “—but I have eyes. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying all this time, so… so you don’t need to convince me that you care for him. I can tell… you’re really trying to be a good friend.”

He stares at you, confused and wary, as if he had never expected the conversation to go this way. _Which was probably an accurate summation—you always did find the most creative ways to fuck up even the simplest of situations._ “What… what are you saying?”

Nodding to yourself, you lock eyes with him, fascinated by how different and wary those red eyes are now. Surprisingly enough, they’re not like Dave’s, more of a… shifting crimson than a gleaming ruby. While you know that appearance is in no way an indicator for aspect, you wonder if he’s a Blood type.

“I know you want to make up with Dave,” you say, deciding to be as honest as possible—you had a feeling that Karkat was the type to hate the typical Strider irony-flavored bullshit more than most, “and I just… I’m just trying to tell you that I’m not against that. At the end of the day, I want Dave to be happy, and I can tell you want that too.”

“I have no right to speak for Dave,” you continue, awkward as you rub the back of your head and try to look anywhere else but Karkat’s stare, infinitely glad, as always, for your shades. “But, I… I think he misses you?” Shit, you hadn’t meant for that to sound like a question. “I mean, even though he’s… mad? Fuck, even though he doesn’t want to talk to you, he talks _about_ you. Like he told me about how you guys got into trouble in foster care and how you got him that game console—”

“Dave told you about that?” Karkat’s voice was quiet, naked to all the feelings you’re pretty sure he doesn’t know he’s showing.

Still, you nod. “Yeah.”

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. You’re quiet because you’re unsure what else to say, if you _should_ even say anything, while he’s quiet because… you don’t know, memories? Thoughts of the past? Given that you spent a large— _likely unhealthy—_ amount of time in self-reflection, you didn’t begrudge the prickly teen few moments of silence.

Of course, it’s right then that you remember what you had been doing before Karkat had shown up.

 _Where_ you had been going.

 _“Shit_ ,” you curse, looking down at your suit— _yeah, you were still in it, like a fucking idiot—_ and then at a nearby clock.

_11:47._

How the _hell_ had it gotten so late so fast? “ _Fuck_!”

“What’s wrong?”

Karkat’s voice startles you and you look over to see him watching you carefully.

“I, I had to be to someplace called the Grub Shack by noon,” you say, feeling yourself almost _vibrate_ as worries fill your mind. What were you going to wear? Where was the Grub Shack? How the _fuck_ were you going to get there on time—

“The Grub Shack?” Karkat’s eyes widened. “That’s a ten-minute drive—why the fuck are you still here?”

 _“Fuck!_ ” you shout, rushing from the door and across the living room. You know you’re being as rude as all hell to Karkat as you slam Dave’s bedroom door shut behind you, but you were in full on panic mode.

It’s a blur as you randomly choose clothes from Dave’s pile on the ground— _fuck, you needed to do laundry today, didn’t you? How the hell had he made so much in the day that you were gone!?—_ and throw them on.

It’s a long-sleeved black t-shirt— _Dave didn’t seem to own anything but long-sleeved shirts… for reasons you didn’t want to think about—_ and matching jeans. Both are tight as fuck on you and more than a few inches too short, but beggars— _which you literally were—_ couldn’t be choosers. The last time you had clothes that fit you well was when Jake had bought them…

_…and not the time to be thinking about that!_

You rush out the bedroom and find Karkat still standing outside the front door, looking bewildered as fuck as you grab a key off the counter and lock the apartment door behind you.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he asks as you speed-walk down the hallway.

“The Grub Shack,” you answer, walking down the stairs as quick as possible.

“Wait, are you planning on _walking_ there?” he asks incredulously.

You glare over your shoulder, hand tightening around the railing. “I don’t really have a choice. Dave is out looking for a job and Roxy is at work too.”

Karkat flinches— _probably the ‘Dave looking for a job’ part—_ before something determined colors his expression.

He grabs your shoulder. You _just_ manage not to freak out, tensing automatically at the contact. While you weren’t Dave’s brand of… touch aversion, it was _not smart_ to spring any sort of physical contact on you either. _Only Jake and your siblings could, and even then…_

Something in your expression must have alerted Karkat to that because he quickly releases you, bringing his hands back with something almost apologetic on his face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to… never mind. Look, do you want a ride?”

You pause mid-step before looking back at him. “Why?”

His face scrunches up into that familiar brand of irritation. “I’m trying to be helpful, dickwad! But if you’d rather _walk_ twenty miles to a place you don’t even know the _address_ of—”

“No, I’ll take the ride,” you say quickly, heart rate only slightly increasing. You didn’t really know Karkat— _and, even if you had, you’d probably still be suspicious; it was just who you were—_ but getting any type of favor from someone was… uncomfortable. You hated owing people, hated it even more when you couldn’t repay them— _such as a certain English gentleman—_ so you tried to avoid it as best as you can.

But… you think of the time— _of Jake waiting for you—_ and force yourself to nod in confirmation.

He jerks his head forward and passes you on the staircase, making his way to a not so shitty gray Volvo before sliding into the driver’s seat. Only hesitating for a moment, you open the passenger’s side and buckle up.

While you pretty certain that Karkat had no, particular, ill will towards you— _discounting the fact that you were a stranger in his former best friend’s apartment… but it’s probably best not to get into that again—_ you definitely didn’t think you were on good enough terms to warrant this.

So, why?

As the car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, you found yourself wondering why he was at Dave’s apartment in the first place. It was completely possible that he had wanted to finish what had started at the nightclub before Dave got fired, but then why give you a ride?

Apparently, Karkat knew what you were thinking because he glared at you at the corner of his eye before thrusting a piece of paper at you. “Here, give this to Dave.”

Forehead creasing, you unravel the piece of paper. On it was some address and a phone number. What was this?

“It’s a gig for Dave,” says Karkat, uncomfortable with the sudden silence as you stare at the paper and then at him. “Look, I asked around and these guys were looking for a semi-competent DJ. Dave is a fucknugget, but he’s more than enough for this job. I told them about him and they're completely on board if he calls soon. It’s closer than his old place and pays a fuck ton better, so—”

“You found him a job?” you blurt out, surprise coloring your tone.

He glares at you, obviously thinking you were some sort of moron. “No,” he says sarcastically. “They expect him to play for free—of course it’s a job!”

“You… wow,” you say intelligently, staring at the paper in disbelief. Despite how quickly Karkat had phrased it, you were well aware that it was a bit harder than that to find a job. Especially one that sounded infinitely better than Dave’s old one. Nonetheless finding it in a _day_. What type of strings had Karkat needed to pull to get this?

Something inside of you softens and you look at him, feeling real remorse for the teen. “You… really care about Dave, don’t you?”

He grips the steering wheel, making a right turn at a stoplight. “I thought we already fucking established that,” he gripes, the red flush to his cheeks revealing his true feelings. “And this is not even about that. It was my fault he lost his job in the first place so this is just me fixing it. You got it? Good!”

“Dave’s lucky to have someone like you in his life,” you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself.  

Karkat’s eyes tighten and his lips press together. “Obviously he doesn’t think the same,” he says, bitter, but with true pain etched into his words. “I… I don’t know how much he told you about what happened, but I fucked up. I know I did. But he did too! After I… he didn’t need to just _cut me off_!” He slams one hand to the wheel, anger overflowing. “I know that I’m always fucking up everything, but he won’t even let me _try_ to fix it! I’ve tried everything! And it wasn’t even just the fight we had. He’s been acting weird ever since—”

He suddenly cuts off, glancing at you with narrowed eyes. But the damage was already done.

“Ever since what?” you ask, knowing that it would be far smarter for you to just shut the hell up. But when had you ever done the smart thing? No, really. When? “Since… you guys reunited? I know that there’s some sort of… void period where you guys were separated into different foster cares or something. Jade said that you thought he was… changed when you met up again?”  

Karkat stares at you at the corner of his eyes before returning his eyes to the road. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Dave was… changed,” he laughs, but there’s no humor. “That’s one hell of a fucking word for it. Like I was used to his bullshit mask of ‘Strider’ irony, but, two years ago, when I ran into him, it was on fucking _accident_. I know the asshole knew that I was in Houston, I mailed him my fucking contact info first chance I could get, but he never replied. I thought he was fucking _dead_ or some shit, but he shows up, tells me he was emancipated— _and I have **no** fucking idea how that shit is possible when you’re **barely** **sixteen** —_and acts like it doesn’t matter!”   

He shakes his head, incredulous. “He was here for a month, knew _I_ was here, and he just didn’t _feel_ like contacting me? What the fuck? But, fucking moron that I was, I was too ecstatic to see his ass after two years of ‘void space’ as you put it and let it go. But… he was different. Foster kids, especially ones like us, we’ve been through shit. We got problems. It’s how it fucking goes. But he was… worse. While he was never fucking John or Jade’s levels of expressiveness, he at least dropped that impassive bullshit around me.”

“Dave smiles around me and Roxy,” you say, head reeling as you try to process all this new information. Finally, a confirmation of what you suspected.

“Well _good_ for _fucking you_ ,” he spits out. You glance over and then back at your side of the car—Karkat didn’t need to know you knew how watery his eyes were. “And he used to with me! And I’m not talking about when he’s running his mouth and trying to distract you from shit he’s trying to hide—” Okay, now _that_ was definitely Dave. “—but where he _really_ lets his guard down. Where he’s not hiding from people he should _know_ he can trust, not secluding himself and acting like it’s nothing, not acting like _someone_ is about to _hurt him—_ ”

Karkat takes a sharp intake of breath and immediately cuts off, but the damage is done.

“…you think someone hurt him?” you find yourself asking. But you already know the truth.

_How could you not?_

Someone had hurt Dave. Had scarred him physically and emotionally, to the point that he hid them from everyone and everything around him. Even though they obviously continued to haunt him. Even though he could never truly get past it by hiding.

… _as Karkat probably knew._  

Karkat laughs, more bitter and pained than ever before. “I think you know the fucking answer to that.” He swallows. “And there’s no fucking way that Dave doesn’t know that I know too…”

His hands tighten, white and shaking from how hard he’s gripping them. You would worry that something would break if you didn’t already know it was inevitable.

“He just… no matter what I do, he just _won’t_ let me help.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, only the sound of the car running and random noises from outside as you drive downtown to your destination. You’d almost forgotten that you were on your way to see Jake, so caught up in this… impromptu ‘ _Worried About Dave’_ club meeting.

“I think…” you say finally, taking a moment to gather your thoughts and feelings—as difficult as it was with all the rampant emotions running around, “that Dave just needs time.”

Karkat snorts. “He’s had two years and I’ve only seen him get _worse_. I don’t think that time is such an ‘all-cure healer’ as fucking fortune cookies make it out to be.”

Well, he definitely wasn’t wrong there. _You would know, having spent thousands of years stewing in your regrets and broken memories._

“That’s not what I meant,” you continue, adjusting yourself on the seat. “Dave knows that we… you care about him, but he has never been one to talk unless he’s ready.” Or, well, unless he was pushed to his breaking point… which was something you never wanted to see. You’d already gotten close to it that night on the stairs and you kicked yourself every time you think about how it must have messed with him mentally.

“That’s for fucking sure.” Karkat snorts, relaxing the tiniest amount. “Even before, getting him to admit something he doesn’t want to is like pulling fucking teeth.”

An amused huff of air leaves you. “Yeah, that’s Dave.”

Karkat nods, the first hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Fucknugget loves to drive everyone around him fucking insane, but it’s never because he’s _actually_ an asshole.”

You snort. That’s definitely an accurate way to describe a Strider. “Yeah, Dave’s a little shit,” you say fondly, watching Karkat look at you at the corner of his eye before you sober up. “But you know that he cares. Cares _too_ much, probably. I think… I think whatever happened during those two years, they really messed him up, and he doesn’t want to think about it.”

Karkat’s frustration returns. “Then _how_ am I supposed to help him if he won’t even talk about it? I’m not fucking blind, it’s eating him up on the inside. He _needs_ to at least try to deal with it!”

You swallow, feeling yourself waver. To be honest, you felt the same. Or, at the very least, felt that he needed to open up to _someone_ about whatever… whatever had made Dave be so different from the Dave you remembered.

_(And, to be honest, your Dave was pretty fucked up from your messed up childhood as well—so to see him suffering even more was really tearing you apart.)_

“It’s still his choice,” you say, finally, pushing down your own desire to help Dave out as quickly as possible. “The only thing we can do is be there to support him. Make him feel safe enough that he can do that.”

You look at him pointedly and he has the decency to blush. You lean back, satisfied as you continue. “Arguing with him gets nowhere, as you know. He’s evasive on a good day but making him feel defensive… I think he’s had enough of that for a lifetime. Again, I’m not saying that he doesn’t need to talk about it sometime, but… I think he needs a friend more.”

Karkat stares at you for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. From the silence, you can tell he agrees, or at least is thinking about it. It’s all you could hope for. In the end, it was still undoubtedly _Dave_ who was avoiding Karkat and everything to do with him, but perhaps it would be a little easier if Karkat wasn’t purposely poking at open wounds every time they met.

“Does that sum up the fight you guys had?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You could see it pretty clearly: Karkat finally getting fed up with and confronting Dave on whatever dark secrets he was holding back, but with Dave freaking out and ending all contact between them. Yeah, that was definitely a Strider thing to do…

Having thought you figured it out, you’re surprised when Karkat flushes. You raise an eyebrow. “I… should I take that as a no?” Despite how messed up it is, you can’t hold back a snort. “Wow, how many fucked up topics were you able to fit into one conversation?”

He scowls at you, looking like he really would punch you if he wasn’t driving. “Sh-shut the fuck up! Not sure if you met either of us, but we’re apparently _really_ great at fucking things up!”

You nod. While you weren’t sure where Karkat got that talent from, Dave was definitely related to you through and through. You knew that it wasn’t your business, that you should be content to get confirmation that Dave’s behavior was strange from someone who… who knew him longer in this life, but you couldn’t help but be curious what else they could have fought about. Though, it really could have been anything knowing these two—

_Wait…_

Your jerk to look over at Karkat so fast you’re pretty sure that you have whiplash. “Do you have feelings for Dave?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

_Great job, Strider._

If he hadn’t been in a moving vehicle, you were pretty sure that Karkat would have bailed immediately from the look on his face. Even now, the look on his face made it obvious that he was thinking about jumping out the window anyway—tragic traffic death or not.

“ _What_?” he screeched— _and, wow, that was almost adorable?—_ completely freaking out. “What, I, _did Dave tell you that!?”_

_Well, that was a confirmation if you had ever heard one, wasn’t it?_

“No, he didn’t… uh…” You hold up your hands, trying to keep the feeling of… _bewilderment_ contained.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Dave to find… uh… love. Really. It was just that the idea hadn’t really… crossed your mind in the present era? You feel like you deserved a bit of slack— _reuniting with siblings you knew died thousands of years ago was sure to mess up anyone—_ but you realize that you probably had sounded really… insulting? Rude?

But, seriously. Roxy being in love with Jane (and having a long string of relationships) was entirely different from _Dave_ having any type of romantic relationship. You could recall Roxy flirting with anything and anyone back in Derse, falling _hard_ in most cases, so while it made you feel… ( _jealous, uncomfortable, lonely—)_ you weren’t surprised about Roxy.

But Dave… you couldn’t recall him _ever_ having actual feelings for another person, male or female, in his previous life. Sure, he had _pretended_ to flirt with both genders, so whenever the topic had come up you suspected that he would take after Roxy’s tastes more than yours, but him having a substantial crush nonetheless being in love? That you’d never seen.

You study Karkat in a new light, wondering how the _fuck_ you had missed this when it was so goddamn obvious in retrospect. _Perhaps Dave had just needed the right person—after all, it wasn’t like you, yourself, had felt any real romantic feelings until… until Jake._

It’s not like you thought that Dave didn’t have the capability, in fact, Dave would probably fall _too much_ in love when it finally happened and be a complete mess… would probably take after you in that way and just _fuck it up—_

Again, you pause. “Am I right?” you ask Karkat, trying to keep your tone neutral but probably failing miserably as so many things become clear. “Did you… Are you and Dave—”

 _“No!_ ”

Karkat _slammed_ on the brakes, forcing you to brace yourself on the dashboard as you realize that he had turned into a parking spot… in front of a bookstore? You look at him, now entirely bewildered. Was he kicking you out?

He bared his teeth, angrily opening thrusting the driver’s side door open. “The Grub Shack is on the second floor,” he says, gesturing to the bookstore and slamming the door closed without further ado. You watched him walk around the car. “It’s noon, hurry the fuck up.”

The desire to know more— _so not only had Karkat apparently poked at Dave’s physical and mental scars during the infamous ‘fight,’ but did he also confess romantic feelings or something?—burned_ at you, but the memory of why you were here struck you.

_Jake._

You quickly get out of the passenger side, nodding your thanks as Karkat holds the door open to the bookstore for you. Despite the fact that you could probably find the second floor yourself, you appreciated Karkat not getting back into the car and running you over for talking about many… _many_ sensitive subjects. You half expect him to slam the door in your face, but he just sneers as you walk through. _Yeah, you definitely screwed things up between the two of you. Again._

The door shuts behind you faster than you expect, catching the bottom of your foot and making you stumble forward as you feel gravity _tug_ you forward—

“—such a pretty girl like yourself doing in a drab place like this?”

“Being bothered by a Neanderthal, it seems. If you weren’t a vital part of what comes next, I’d be far more annoyed.”

“You bet that I’ll be _vital_ to you, baby—”

Before the conversation even fully registers, you feel yourself scowling over towards the left where you see some idiot standing in front of some girl and leaning against a bookshelf. She was evidently shorter than them because you couldn’t quite see her face—

Suddenly, you hear a _grunt_ and the idiot from before was quickly backing away, holding his shin from where the girl had probably kicked him. “You _bitch_ —”

He reached out to grab her but bumped into the bookcase instead. It _fell—_

Before you can think, you’re flash-stepping over and catching the bookcase before it can crush the petite girl, glowering at the idiot kid who had almost flattened the girl behind you via incompetence.

“ _Get lost_ ,” you grit out, a bit surprised by your dark tone. It had been instinctual, but you couldn’t understand why.

Thankfully, the idiot didn’t bother sticking around and quickly exited the bookstore with his metaphorical tail between his legs. You sigh in relief, arms flexing as you slowly begin to straighten your body with the bookshelf on top of you.

“Are you okay?” you ask the girl, carefully stabilizing the bottom of the bookcase with your foot before pushing it up. Fucking asshole. You weren’t much of a reader, but you hated people who trashed other people’s stuff indiscriminately. And hit on those who obviously didn’t want it.

“Yes, I do believe so. Right on time as always, Brother.”

You give an absentminded nod. “Yeah, well—”

_Brother._

You freeze. Lightning coursing through you as the last word registered.

And then, almost mockingly, you felt that _tug_ in your gut. _Wait, so by the door, that hadn’t been gravity, that had been—_

You finish setting the bookshelf up and slowly turned to look down until you’re staring at a pale girl with short, blonde hair and intelligent amethyst-colored eyes.

 _Knowing_ eyes.

You swallow as _Rose_ smiles.  

“It’s good to see you, Dirk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEN THERE WERE FOUR! It might have taken some time, but please welcome Rose to the stage! And not only is it Rose… BUT SHE KNOWS DIRK! What does she recall? What can she do? 
> 
> …and what new problems will she bring with her? 
> 
> I purposely used Karkat as inspiration for the chapter title because I know I’ve been spoiling the new character arrivals with them until now. Surprise! Note: The title actually has a lot to do with Rose too… keep that in mind as you watch her… future actions. 
> 
> More info on the Dave/Karkat saga, apparently in the form of unexpected Dirk and Karkat friendship? Dirk, you’re so much better at helping others than yourself, you know that? But there’s more to this than you could possibly know. Figure it out… before it’s too late. 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!


	13. The Light Of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Karkat gives Dirk a ride to the Grub Shack. On the way, they talk about how the Dave Karkat knew at 13 was drastically different from the one he reunited with two years ago. They theorize what could have possibly happened but ends with Dirk telling Karkat to just support Dave. Arriving, Dirk runs into a certain familiar face... Rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! A bit shorter chapter than usual, but at least an update? Also, I couldn’t make this longer than it was. I’ve been planning on this emotional cliffhanger for quite a while. XD 
> 
> Tell me what you think! I love Rose. She definitely knows how to shake things up, lol. Get ready for a very... heartwarming reunion. ;)

_Brother._

Did she… did she really call you _brother_?

The blonde girl— _Rose—_ smiles up at you with knowing amethyst eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Dirk.”

Had you been a computer, you’re pretty sure you would have seen the words _‘Dirk.exe has stopped working. Please close the program and we’ll notify you when a solution is found.’_ Only, this is you, there is no solution for the many ways you were fucked up. And why were you even freaking out? This wasn’t a problem. This was… this was…

_What was this?_

Rose _—oh my god, **Rose** —_seems content to stare at you with that sophisticated expression that was so familiar and yet so painful that it felt like glass shards were burrowing themselves into your heart. You had felt this a few times, whenever Dave and Roxy did something similar to their past selves, but this… _this—_

“Dirk, what the fuck is taking you?” A part of you registers a certain shouting teen walk up next to you. “It’s fucking past noon, I thought you said that it was important that you—”

He stops. At the corner of your eye, you see him look at Rose in disbelief. “Wait. I know you.”

To your surprise, Rose’s smile seems to thin. “Oh, hello Karkat. Or, I suppose, this is the first time we’ve met, isn’t it?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asks Karkat, nose scrunching as his brow furrows in concentration. “You’re… the one from Kanaya’s picture, aren’t you? That girl she knew from her gardening job. Vio—”

“You’re not mistaken,” interrupts Rose before Karkat can finish speaking. “But… I do believe that Kanaya told you that we are no longer acquaintances, did she not?”

You watch the proceedings with only the barest sense of awareness. You had no clue what they were talking about. _Though, a selfish, ugly, part of you hated the way that Karkat was stealing Rose, your **sister’s** , attention—_

“Acquaintances?” Karkat snorts, fists balling at his side. “That’s one way to fucking put it.”

“Karkat,” began Rose warningly.

“She said you just stopped talking to her!” he shouts, red eyes flashing. “I don’t fucking know what happened between you two, but she deserves better. She’s been a mess since you started ignoring—”

“People stop talking every day,” replies Rose, now the picture of a statue, so different from that genuine warmth she had shown you just a moment ago. “It’s completely natural.”

“Bullshit,” snarls Karkat, getting the attention of others in the bookstore. At the back of your mind, you realize you had completely forgotten about your surroundings. “Something happened. Kanaya won’t talk about it, only said that you cut her off—”

“Well, she seems quite content to spread our metaphorical dirty laundry around to any who wishes to listen.” Rose tilts her head. “And you wonder why we stopped conversing.”

“Oh fuck _off_ ,” growls Karkat, taking a step closer. Automatically your arm goes out to stop him. He gives you a confused look— _oh, right, he doesn’t know who this is, what she **means** to you—_ but Karkat takes a deep breath and looks at Rose again. “If you know anything about Kanaya, you’d know she’d go to the grave before betraying anyone’s secrets. But I’ve known her a long time so I know by the way she talks about you that she really cares.”

You’re not sure if it’s because your Soul is hyperaware of Rose’s Soul right now, but you can feel the way her Heart… ripples at Karkat’s words. You have no clue what’s going on, or who they’re talking about, but something about this… _Kanaya_ … was making Rose’s Soul ache, no matter how impassive she seemed.

“…yes,” says Rose after a moment, the small hint of sadness showing. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Beside you, Karkat stiffens in surprise, likely not expecting that response. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. If there was one thing you remembered about Rose— ** _Rose_** _, your **sister** —_it was that she was complicated on a good day and a labyrinth of passive-aggressive mind games on bad ones.  

“But enough about that,” You head snaps back to Rose, keen on every word she spoke. “I do believe that it’s about time we go now, isn’t it, Dirk?”

 _‘Go where?’_ you want to ask but find yourself nodding anyway.

She smiles triumphantly. Karkat’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

“Wait, what?” Karkat scowls suspiciously, eyes focusing on you after a moment. “Was she the one you were meeting—”

“No,” says Rose. From Karkat’s expression, he was getting _really_ tired of the constant interruptions. “In fact, it’s quite fortunate that you’re here, Karkat. Do you mind finding a ‘Jake English’ upstairs, table 15 with an English breakfast and a glass of orange juice that sadly will be wasted—”

Your heart lurched. Jake. You had forgotten about him. And that orange juice. You knew that Jake didn’t hate orange juice, but it certainly wasn’t his first choice. Did he… _had he gotten that for you?_

“—and inform him that Dirk had a more pressing matter to attend?” finishes Rose.

You jolt as she walks over confidently and takes your hand, smaller fingers seemingly so frail and soft as they clutch yours with more strength than you think she’s even aware of using. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes— _amethyst and amber—_ and you know— _you_ **_know_** —without even looking into her Soul that there’s no doubt.

“Hold a fucking moment!” Karkat stares incredulously before looking at you again. “You were meeting Jade’s cousin? I had to drive you all the way here and now you’re fucking ditching him?” His head swings over to Rose. “And how the fuck did you know he was meeting that idiot? Where the fuck are you even taking him?”

“It’s none of your concern,” says Rose bluntly before tugging you towards the exit. Logically, you know it had only been a few minutes since you entered, if that, but it felt like an eternity. So much had changed… _that was a common theme lately, wasn’t it?_  “Goodbye, Karkat.”

“ _Wait—_ ”

Rose did not, as Karkat wanted, _wait_. She pulled you out the door without another glance at the ex-friend of her brother— _Dave, if she knew Karkat, did she know Dave? Or, wait, she had said that she had never met Karkat before, didn’t she?—_ with her left hand still tightly clutching yours.

You know you should say something as she leads you past Karkat’s car and down the sidewalk to some sort of side path, but your tongue is a lead weight in your mouth. Or maybe the fault is with your mind, so many thoughts racing and fighting with one another to get to the surface.

You try to force your thoughts into submission as Rose leads you into some sort of small park but find yourself completely incapable. It’s like when you first met Dave, so shocked and in disbelief that this could possibly be happening that you were like a broken engine trying to start. But you had gone through this with Dave and Roxy. Shouldn’t you be more than comfortable with meeting your reincarnated siblings now that you had finally met the third— _and last, oh god, you had **found** them all—_ one? But this was different, wasn’t it? Because, unlike Dave and Roxy, Rose knew.

_Rose knew who you were._

Swallowing, you nod as Rose gestures for you to sit on a park bench beside her. You slowly seat yourself, trying to hide the shaking of your left hand by gripping the wood planks beneath you.

Your right hand is still very much occupied with hers—but, luckily, she seems just as reluctant as you to let go. The Rose you remember wasn’t very tactile— _neither of you were, that was more Roxy’s thing with Dave pretending he wasn’t but really was—_ but you had a feeling that both of you had changed quite a bit since you had last… had last seen one another.

For a moment, you stare at each other. You’d already studied her in the bookstore but find yourself combing over her features again. It felt especially odd since you knew that she was doing the same, watching her eyes flicker up and down before locking with yours behind your shades once more.

“We can’t stay here long,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence between the two of you. “Going to be a rather violent thunderstorm tonight that will begin to brew in the following hours.”

“Did you see that on the news?” you ask automatically. “Or…”

She smiles, the genuineness that had disappeared when Karkat started talking breaking through once again. Something impossibly fond and _warm_ washing over you as her hand tightens around yours. “No, the news has been having some trouble predicting the weather lately, haven’t they?” she asks rhetorically, still smiling. “Of course, I can’t blame them. Snow and thunderstorms in Houston in March? Rather odd, I admit.”

“Just as odd as a Seer of Light in the modern era?” you blurt out.

Her smiles widen. There’s a watery sheen to her eyes now. “As odd as a Prince of Heart, I’m sure.”

You laugh, a broken, off-tone sound that, had it been anyone else, would have probably worried them. But Rose, _Rose_ , just looks at you with that same fondness and hint of relief you know she would be able to see clearly in yours if you weren’t wearing your shades. The way her thumb strokes over your hands tells you that she knows anyway, of course.

Resisting the urge to completely break down, you push up your shades— _luckily, it’s rather cloudy; probably the start to that storm that Rose was talking about—_ and put two fingers on the bridge of your nose, taking her in like a starving man before a feast. “So it’s… you _remember_.” Your heart leaps into your throat, making it hard to speak. “ _You know who I am._ ”

Her hand— _her right one, her left seems rather adamant not to let yours go—_ comes up and cradles your face, eyes intent as if trying to memorize your every feature. “I believe so, High Prince Dirk Strider of Derse, the Prince of Heart,” she says firmly. “Beloved older brother of High Princess Roxanne Lalonde the Rogue of Void, Prince David the Knight of Time, and—” Her voice wavers for a split second. “—Princess Rosaline the Seer of Light.”

Her thumb strokes your cheek and her voice wavers again. “ _My_ brother.”

Tears burn your eyes. You laugh wetly, trying to hold them back but feeling far too fragile to truly attempt it. “You don’t do anything half-assed, do you Rose?”

Her eyes sparkle and you hear her sniff. “I’m insulted you would insinuate such a thing, dear Brother.”

For a few minutes, maybe more, the two of you just sit there, soaking each other in. Words are obviously too much for both of you to handle so, instead, you take comfort in each other’s presence. Finding relief in each other’s existence, though a part of you feels… not quite unsettled, but close, at the idea that Rose is as emotional at your reunion as you are. You obviously know why _you_ were such a wreck, but Rose…?

You clear your throat. “How… how do you remember?” Alright, that was a stupid question, but you really need answers to fill in every blank possible. “I mean, Magic doesn’t exist in the modern era so how…?”

Rose’s lips thin, but not with annoyance like they had when she had been talking to Karkat. You can tell from that expression alone that she… is uncertain as well.

“I must admit I do not have the answers to that, Brother,” she reveals. “All I know is that I’ve been having dreams of our past life since childhood, but it was two years ago that I truly began to remember and a year ago that they came more solidly.”

You tense at the timetable. Two years. That was… becoming a familiar number. Was it because that was around the time that Jake released you from the Cavern of Hearts? Had Jake freeing you caused some sort of chain reaction for your reincarnated siblings? But how would that be possible? And Rose had just said that, even before you had been freed, that she had been having dreams. What was going on? Why were you the only ones to have abilities in this world?

You put it aside for now.

“What about you?” you hear Rose say, bringing you from your thoughts.

You nod, slowly bringing up your left hand and concentrating. Pink lightning dances around your fingertips and you see their glow reflect in Rose’s eyes—her eyes almost as bright and intense as the raw energy. “Yeah.” You nod before letting the lightning disappear. “But, Roxy and Dave—”

You see her eyes sharpen and, for the first time, she interrupts you. “So, it’s true? I mean, I’ve seen them with you, with me, in the future, but… you’ve already made contact?”

Your heart aches for her. Even before you had fully remembered your life in Derse, when you were a prisoner of the Cavern of Hearts, there had always been a horrific emptiness in your Soul. Three giant sized holes that mutilated you from the inside out. When you had fully remembered your life around a year ago, the pain had only gotten worse because you realized that you had forgotten them for so long. You knew that you deserved it. Deserved all the pain that memories could cause and then some. But Rose _didn’t_.

“Yeah.” You swallow down your feelings and bob your head. “I live with Dave and Roxy is right next door.” Her eyes light up, an excitement and yearning that you are intimately familiar with shining in them. But… you have to tell her. “But, I don’t think they have their powers or—”

“Really?” Rose raises an eyebrow. “I’m quite certain that if you and I do, they must too. Can you think of no occasion that could suggest they retain their former Magic?”

You pause, thinking it over more carefully now that Rose had questioned it. And… honestly? There were things. Things that you had written off— _such as Roxy’s seemingly endless supply of keys and Dave being able to disappear whenever he gets upset—_ because it seemed impossible that you were anything but alone— _a freak—_ in this modern era.

But with Rose’s confirmation of her Seer abilities… there was no doubt. Even if Roxy and Dave had yet to notice it— _or, had they? Would they even tell you if they had?—_ there was no doubt that there were hints of their classpects every now and then. Rose was right.

_Inwardly you smirk, not that Rose being correct was an odd thought. She wasn’t perfect, but, even without relying on her powers, she had been an undisputed ruler of Derse despite her age for a reason._

“You’re right,” you say out loud on purpose, relishing in the smugness that colors Rose’s expression. You smirk inwardly, glad that, even after so long since you last seen her, she still couldn’t hide such things. “I don’t think they know about them though.” You force yourself to say the next words. “And… I’m pretty sure they don’t remember their past lives either. Remember… us.”

To your surprise, instead of getting upset, she simply waves a hand. “That will not be an issue. I have a plan for that.”

You give her a look but she simply smiles, that familiar cross between a satisfied smirk and eloquent poise. “It’ll be alright, dear Brother.” You realize that she had been calling you ‘Brother’ more than anything else… it was incredible. You would never tire of it. “After all, reincarnation isn’t an exact science is it? Roxy and Dave do not have the benefit of emotional or mental related abilities.”

You nod before pausing. Something seemed… off. “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, closer to a fond exasperation now. “As a Seer of Light, it’s only natural that I would have dreams of our past life or, at the very least, have visions of a future where we are reunited and speak about it.” She gestures to you. “As a Prince of Heart, I can only assume that the bonds from your past life somehow remained with you and, through that connection, you were able to recall Roxy, Dave, and I in this ‘modern-era’ as you put it.”

Her lips press together. Sadness enters her gaze. “I wish we could have met sooner,” she admits. “I cannot completely presume what it was like for you to grow up a second time in this era with a strange family that didn’t fit as well as conflicting dual memories, but for me… it was admittedly less than favorable.”

_Wait… what was she…?_

Your throat runs dry. The next words topple out. “Rose, do you… do you remember how you died?”

_How **you** , **Dave** , and **Roxy** died? _

Her hands tighten around yours. “No,” she admits before glancing at you. “There is… approximately six months missing from our memories, yes?” Unable to do anything else, you nod. She hums in confirmation. “Quite suspicious. Whatever malevolent force caused the death of you, Roxy, Dave, and I must have been truly great.”

_She was right… but for the part where she included **you** in that death count. _

She looks back at you. Only, this time, the fondness in her gaze makes something inside of you churn. “But I’m certain that we will eventually discover the truth. In the meantime, the fact that you are here proves that we were all meant to be together again.” She nods again, confident. “It matters not what others in this modern era think. They couldn’t possibly comprehend or believe our situation. We are each other’s true family and the only ones we can trust.”

She squeezes your hand, tighter than ever. “I am… impossibly happy to see you again, Brother.”

Her eyes shine with tears and a few even leak out, but you can’t move. You know that she probably thinks you’re too overcome with emotion to respond and, while that’s true, you’re horrifically aware it’s for reasons different from those she thought.

Because she didn’t know. Somehow, Rose had come to the conclusion that you had been reincarnated in this modern era just like her, Roxy, and Dave. That you had been reborn as an unaware snot nose kid before going through angsty teen years of confusion before eventually remembering a year ago and… hunting down Roxy and Dave? Was that what she believed?

It didn’t matter. Because, for once, Rose was wrong. She didn’t know. Didn’t know that you hadn’t been reincarnated like them. Didn’t know that you had been trapped in the Cavern of Hearts for thousands of years since the fall of Derse. _Didn’t know that you were to blame for their destruction._

And, just like that, staring into those earnest and impossibly fond amethyst eyes, you realize that, while Rose knew more than Roxy and Dave, there was still a barrier between you. Yes, she knew you were her brother, but wouldn’t that make her reaction all the worst when she realized that, despite that connection, you had let them die? Had failed and cursed them to be reincarnated in this modern-day era where every issue and hardship they faced was all because of you?

You knew… you couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t bear to see that fond light in her eyes go out and be replaced with rage and betrayal. It was beyond selfish and, with Rose’s abilities, it was only a matter of time before she figured it out. Figured it out and told Roxy and Dave— _memory or no memory—_ that you were scum and to stay as far away as possible.

 _But still… you couldn’t tell her_.

So, you force them down. Force the feelings, the secrets, the _lies_ down your throat and into your heart to be locked up so tight that they could never see the light of day. And then nod.

“It’s… good to see you too, Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, so many of you thought that Dirk’s troubles would be over now that Rose was in the picture, didn’t you? Haha, NAH. Not to mention that Rose is bringing along troubles of her own. Can you name all the ones hinted here? 
> 
> And Dirk… I know that you’re overcome by the fact that Rose has your ‘reincarnation’ story wrong… but pay attention to more than that. Some of her words are worrisome. …very worrisome. Blood is thicker indeed... 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think! I love feedback and I often use it as inspiration! Like Jane and Karkat? Weren’t originally as present in their chapters as they were but comments made me highlight them more.


	14. How Do You See It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Dirk finally reunites with Rose. But it's not just Rose, but a Rose who REMEMBERS him. Or... at least, she remembers their life in Derse, but not what happened to them afterward. What happened to... Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wanted to get this chapter up yesterday, as is my usual day, but I was super busy (I’m drowning in HW--send help) and wanted to have more than just another conversation with Rose. 
> 
> Especially since, with Rose’s arrival, a LOT OF THINGS have been set into motion to occur. I really have to plan carefully where and HOW to reveal certain things… or it’ll literally fall apart like dominoes and I’d be so upset. 
> 
> Thank you everyone SO MUCH for all the support and patience! Technically, three weeks isn't horrifically long compared to some, but I want to say I will NEVER abandon this fic. This storyline and Dirk means more to be than I can explain. 
> 
> Another note: lots of internal Dirk in this chapter. I generally try to keep the action moments flowing, but Dirk is pretty messed up right now. Like by a LOT. Rose's revelation... it really bothers him. It's almost like it's sent him into a constant panic attack state. And since he's our main character, we got to go his speed. 
> 
> And, well, Rose is not helping. Lots of theories on why… a lot of them pretty accurate ;)

Before you can say anything else-- _can try to process all these new revelations--_ the sky lets loose a low rumble. You frown up at the quickly graying clouds. Even without Rose’s prediction that the weather would act up, there was definitely a storm brewing. You hoped it wasn’t more snow--snow sucked.

As if reading your mind, Rose stands--taking you with you since she still hadn’t let go of your hand. The thought warmed you as much as it numbed you. _It wasn’t a comforting feeling._ Still, you nod and stand, trying to remain as calm as possible. “Did… did you want to continue this or--”

“I was thinking we would go back to Dave’s apartment,” interrupts Rose, turning to face the path out of the mini-park before tugging you forward. “Surely you can understand my lack of patience to be reunited with our siblings.”

Fuck, you can’t even count the number of emotions that flew through you from those two sentences alone. A part of you was still overjoyed that Rose was here, that Rose _knew who you were to her_ , but the knowledge of _her_ knowledge gap-- _and the inevitably that it would be filled--_ only bloomed a mix of fear and self-loathing inside of you.

_A horrifically selfish part of you wanted to delay this reunion. It was only a matter of time before Rose learned the truth. Regained those six months of missing memory and confirmed your failure to protect them during the destruction of Derse. After that, there was no doubt she would tell Roxy and Dave. And, then, all three of them would **cast you out** \--_

You try to swallow your feelings. “I, they’re not there right now--”

“It’s fine.” Rose waves a hand, steady pace forward not faltering one bit. “I believe they’ll be home in another… two hours? Enough time for us to get there and if I’m not being presumptuous, for you to cook us a lovely dinner of lasagna, salad, and a dessert of mixed fruit. But don’t worry about the salad, I’ll handle that. Am I right to assume that Dave and Roxy still have a proclivity to unhealthy foods?”

Your throat is dry. “Yeah.”

Rose hums, dodging beneath a tree branch as the two of you walk out onto the sidewalk. You’re not sure how Rose intends to get to Dave’s apartment, but when you see a bus pull up next to the sidewalk, you figure it out quick. _Good, you had enough things on your mind._

Predictably-- _ha, you could feel the irony in even thinking that word in any relation to the sheer unpredictability of the past two weeks--_ the two of you get on and make your way to the seats in the back. Rose lets your hand go-- _you push down the dual, sickening mix of disappointment and relief-_ -and sits down on the worn leather before.

You squeeze in beside her, blocking her from some random passenger to your left with wild black hair and purple eyes. There’s something… familiar about him-- _to be honest, he looks like a stoner, so it’s quite possible you saw him while on the streets--_ but it’s less important than Rose so you ignore it.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Now that you were around other people, you obviously couldn’t talk about Magic and reincarnated siblings-- _as unobservant the general public was, the wrong people always seemed to be around at the wrong times--_ but you find yourself wanting to talk anyway. As much as Rose’s sudden presence unbalanced you, you found yourself equally wishing to confirm that she was really there. “How old are you?”

_Wow, what a question, Strider._

Thankfully, Rose seems amused. “I am currently seventeen years of age, dear Brother. I assume that Dave is the same?” You nod. “And that you and Roxy are twenty-one?” You nod again, hoping she didn’t see the subtle tightening to your neck. Twenty-one was the age on your fake birth certificate after all.

_Speaking of which, you really needed to talk to Roxy about that whole mess, didn’t you? And Dave. Fuck, there was so much going on._

She hums, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear. You notice they’re pierced which kind of surprises you--Rose had never been one to care about appearances (at least in terms of beauty) but it was entirely possible she had changed her mind.

“An interesting coincidence, or perhaps fate,” she comments. “We are the same age we were before… our untimely separation. Certainly that is for a purpose. Though what that purpose is, I find myself-- hesitant to know.”  
“You have no idea?” you ask before you can stop yourself.  

Rose’s lips press together. She doesn’t quite look upset, but she definitely not pleased with the question. You want to hit yourself. Now that you weren’t spouting bullshit non-stop, the fact that Rose didn’t know why you had all been reunited-- _especially since she had admitted that, like you, she was missing the memories of how she died--_ wasn’t that strange. While it was possible that she would know, given her powers as a Seer of Light and memory of Derse, the whole _‘seer’_ thing was unpredictable at best.

Also, it should be noted that no two classpects were the same. You didn’t mean the obvious fact that an Heir of Breath was different from a Page of Breath, but that a Seer of Light wouldn’t have the exact same powers as another Seer of Light. While a person’s class and aspect defined the basis for their powers, every person’s ability to utilize them was different and unique. Things like talent, life experiences, and personal opinion also played a heavy role in defining a user’s skills.

To use the simplest example, if someone had the ability to use water (though there really wasn’t an aspect for that-- _shut up, you were trying here_ ) then someone with a rigid personality would be inclined to make ice only while someone with a temper would only be able to make steam. Of course, as people grew, they only continued to adapt their Magic and do even stranger things with it.

Long story short, as a Seer of Light, Rose, by definition, was “ _one who benefits others with their knowledge pertaining to Light”_ which has turned into Rose (at least in Derse) being able to _“see the most fortuitous path”_ and what happens in it. However, this was also subject to what _Rose_ thought were the best actions for the future. In the past, she generally tried her best to keep an open mind, but that also led to having a multitude of possible future scenarios.

If that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t like she could see the future in perfect detail either. It was more like key moments and decisions which, if someone made a different decision than she guessed, would prove to be worthless. The way Rose had once described it was that it was comparable to coming to a fork in a road and having to completely retrace her steps if she chose the wrong road at first. Only, there were millions of roads, even with Rose’s natural ability to see the most fortuitous ones.  

It was definitely complicated. You hadn’t envied the stress it had put on her back in Derse, particularly when people would harass her about getting some possible future event wrong-- _though you, Roxy, and Dave silenced **those** people rather quickly_. The four of you had figured out ways to make it easier on her (particularly Roxy who would use her abilities to cancel out Rose’s if they ever got too intense). But she hadn’t had that the last seventeen years, had she? Where were _you_ when she had been suffering these last two years in particular?

She had been alone for _so_ _long… just like Roxy and Dave._

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out quietly. _So sorry, please forgive me, Rose--_  “I know it doesn’t work like that. Just ignore me.”

She looks at you, surprised. There’s only the sound of the bus wheels on the road and people chattering for a few moments before that fondness appears in her eyes again. “I don’t think I could ever ignore you, Dirk,” she says, obviously amused. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to discuss the _why now_ of your reunion-- _of course, it could be completely by accident… which, again, you doubt because life was never that easy--_ but it doesn’t bother you. There were more important things to be concerned with.

_Like teasing._

You waggle a finger at her. “You’re obviously thinking about Dave. Or Roxy.”

She snorts, a refreshing unladylike sound that lightens the weight on your chest just a smidge. “Yes, from what I recall, neither of them enjoy others being preoccupied around them. Particularly Roxy, which is, as you would say, _ironic_ since her element is that of Void. But, as his twin, I do recall Dave having the most adorable fits at being ignored.”

This time you snort, memories of the past-- _far less painful ones than those you generally dwell on--_ running through your head. “You got that right. Remember that one time he spilled apple juice over your favorite book and you ignored him for a day?”

She laughs, the sound like a bell chime. “Why yes… I do! Moping after me like a kicked puppy… it was rather sad after the first few hours.”

You huff, a pathetic attempt at a laugh but what can you do? “I know you, Rose,” you tease. “You forgave him instantly after he rewound Time on the book to fix it, but kept pretending to be mad to see him sulk.”

“Right again, Brother.” Her eyes glitter. “You do know me, don’t you?”

It’s like someone had knocked the air from you. This right here… it proved that you did know her, did you? Of course, there was so much you didn’t know about her in this life, how the experiences of this world had shaped and changed her like it had changed Roxy and Dave, but, for right now, she seemed alright with that. Seemed alright to focus on the memories you did share. Focus on when you were truly _family_.

_Hopefully, she would continue to focus on that Dirk…  and not the pitiful creature you had become after the fall of Derse. Because, that Dirk? The one she remembered? It was a part of you, always would be. But losing your siblings to the unknown destruction of your kingdom and spending all those years in the Cavern of Hearts…_

_...it had broken you. That Dirk she knew? He was here… but he was also gone._

Luckily, you don’t have to respond as the bus suddenly stops. You blink, realizing that you were at the bus-stop in front of Dave and Roxy’s apartment complex. Obviously knowing this without you needing to say, Rose stood up and led the way out the bus.

Rain was already starting to fall, so the two of you rush across the parking lot to avoid getting wet. You made sure she was careful going up the slippery metal steps-- _really, Dave was right to warn people about these stupid things--_ and she seemed a bit exasperated but also amused enough to let allow you.

Walking up to Dave’s door, you unlock it with Roxy’s spare key-- _one of many; really, if Roxy wasn’t using her Void powers to make an endless supply, she was making every hardware store in town filthy rich--_ and let Rose in.

At first you’re worried about the messy state of the apartment-- _leftover ice cream buckets and pizza boxes from your, Roxy, and Dave’s cartoon binge last night as well as trash and dirty clothes from the day that you had left Dave alone--_ but Rose pays it no minds and goes straight to the fridge. She opens it and pulls out what looks to be lettuce.

She continues to pull out other ingredients onto the counter. “We should really get started on the food now. I know that Dave, in particular, will be ravenous after fruitless job-hunting.”

_That reminded you, you needed to give Dave the job offer that Karkat gave you… fuck, how were you going to bring that up without fires being immediately set off?_

Wincing as you mentally added another time bomb to your collection of emotional landmines, you do your best to ignore your thoughts and walk over to join Rose in the kitchen. After all, the lasagna wasn’t going to make itself.

o0o0o

For an hour, it’s surprisingly quiet between the two of you. Or, rather, the time is filled up with you focusing on cooking the lasagna in between teaching Rose how to use the various kitchen tools to help you out. Turns out that she was even more inept than her other two siblings when it came to cooking. Which wasn’t entirely surprising given that back in Derse she had avoided it like the plague, but it was still a bit amusing to see the generally confident and composed girl get so annoyed at cutting tomatoes incorrectly.

“Why will these not cooperate?” mutters Rose beneath her breath, her tight grip on the tomato making the red juice drip upon the countertop in a steady stream.

You snort, a pleasant ache in your chest. This definitely wasn’t the first time you heard such a sentiment from Rose… just the first time in a very long time. “Even as a Seer of Light, not all things will go according to plan.”

She scowls, slicing another strip unevenly. “I assure you that the plans that _matter_ will go as I predict. Particularly the one for Roxy and Dave tonight.”

You stiffen, the light-hearted atmosphere dissolving. “You… you said you had a plan for them to remember?”

Rose gives a curt nod, still focused on cutting the slices as even as possible. “Yes. While I admittedly do not know the exact result of using my powers in tandem with theirs, I’m more than certain that I can instantly bring them back--”

“No!”

Your voice leaves your mouth before you can stop it. Unsurprisingly, this startles Rose and she cuts the most uneven slice of red fruit yet. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Is there a problem? I thought you would be overjoyed at such an obvious solution. It may be a bit difficult, but I assure you combining my powers with Dave’s Time or Roxy’s Void will ‘do the trick,’ as you say.”

A sick feeling wells up inside of you. Remembering everything you knew about their individual powers in Derse, Rose’s plan really _did_ have a high chance of succeeding. It was brilliant really, exactly something you would expect from Rose. With Dave’s Time aspect, they could literally view their memories-- _or at least what they recalled of them_ \--in perfect detail while with Roxy’s Void powers they would instantly return.

_Though, to instantly return them like that, it would be painful and intense… take it from you._

Regardless, combining your powers, even if Roxy and Dave weren’t aware of them yet, was an answer you hadn’t bothered considering before. In fact, if you had thought about it more, it was likely that, with your Heart powers mixed with Roxy’s Rogue of Void aspect, you could do something similar and ‘ _made what Bonds didn’t exist, exist…’_

_But wait… speaking about your Bonds with your siblings, they had already existed before you had even met, hadn’t they? While you hadn’t been able to feel or follow them until you were near them, the fact that you had felt a ‘TUG’ towards them before you met their reincarnated selves was… weird. Again, reincarnation, wasn’t a science, but how was that possible? That definitely felt like some sort of weird mix of you and Roxy’s powers… but that wasn’t possible. At the very least, it wouldn’t have been able to last thousands of years…_

_...right?_

But back to the matter on hand. To bring back Roxy and Dave’s memories… it was too soon.

“Too soon? What do you mean?”

You blink. You spoke that out loud, didn’t you? Rose stares at you suspiciously. Despite the fact you didn’t have a good answer-- _a good reason--_ you find yourself trying to change her mind anyway. “Roxy and Dave are… different,” you say carefully. “It’s not just that they don’t remember us and Derse, they’ve had… rough lives.”

“By the looks of it, all our lives have had less than favorable circumstances,” answers Rose, still with that stubborn expression that brings you back to the days she made it as a two-year-old. It kind of makes you want to roll your eyes, memories of how much she hated being denied-- _no matter the circumstance--_ running through your head. You obviously refrain.

Instead, you nod. “Exactly. They’re going through a lot right now and I think you know instantly bringing back their memories would both be painful and a lot of stress.”

_It’s then that you realize how helpless you are in this situation. Even with you stalling her, it was only a matter of time before they naturally remembered or Rose got her way. And then they would leave you…_

Still...  “It’d be better that they at least trust and know you first before you start to bring back their memories,” you continue, knowing that you’re not lying about that at the very least. It’d be less painful for Roxy and Dave to regain their memories slowly… but that meant they had to at least trust Rose first.

_At least… more than they trusted **you**. _

Sorrow courses through you as you remember how things are with Roxy and Dave right now. Even though they had been remorseful for lying and treating you the way they did-- _they shouldn’t be, you weren’t worth it and caused all the problems in the first place--_ and had apologized last night, things were… still not back to normal. Wouldn’t be until you at least talked one-on-one again.

_You knew you were a monster to ask this of Rose. Unlike you, she didn’t deserve to be separated from her family and have to wait to have that relationship with them that she obviously wanted to have again. And to be asked by her brother, the person who raised her and should have been her most steadfast support, to wait… it was unforgivable._

Rose stares at you, doing that thing where she seems to be seeing inside of your soul. You remain impassive, feeling old habits-- _really old--_ creep on you as she did so. Had it been anyone else, Rose could easily intimidate them, but, again, you had _raised_ the girl in front of you-- _or her previous incarnation, you had to stop forgetting that--_ and, as a result, were pretty immune, if amused, to her attempts.

It was an extremely odd feeling, to have such dusty but familiar ground to walk upon. It--it was like an old piece of you, one left behind in Derse and forgotten in the Cavern of Hearts, was coming back.

After a moment of silence, she sighs and backs down. “If you… think that’s best, Brother. I’ll admit I’m not entirely pleased with the arrangement, but your logic is sound. I do not wish to cause Roxy and Dave any further harm either.”

Inside, a part of you sighs in relief as another part of you clenches in self-disgust. Outwardly, you just nod. “It won’t take long,” you say softly. “Even if they don’t remember yet, they will love you instantly, Rose. You know that.”

She sniffs. To your horror, you realize there are tears in her eyes. _You’re completely unforgivable._ “I know. I’ve seen glimpses of us together in the future, but to think they could care about me like that even without their memories…” She sniffs again. “What am I saying? How foolish. Even though you couldn’t have met but recently, the fact that you are living here with Dave and Roxy proves that our familial-bond has literally transcended time and space. I shouldn’t be worried, but I…”

“It’s okay,” you comfort, hesitating for a moment before going and placing an arm around her. She leans into you, something you can only recall her doing in rare moments in Derse. “And you’re right. Dave found me beat up in an alley but still took me in. And he’s still letting me mooch off him.”

Rose’s head snaps towards you, small tears still glistening in her eyes. “Why were you in an alley? Nonetheless _beat-up_?”  

 _Fuck._ Inwardly, you flinch at the slip. Though, there was no doubt that Rose would have learned about it eventually. _In fact, it’s surprising she didn’t learn about it while Karkat was around given how much he loved to yell about how you were a possibly homicidal homeless hobo._ “I… I was living on the streets for about a year before I met Dave.”

Her eyes widen. “What? Why? How could that--” Amethyst eyes narrow. “Does it have something to do with that… _Jake English_?”

You startle at the name. Now that it had been brought up, you’re not sure how she knew about Jake in the first place-- _especially since she didn’t know that, just two and a half years ago, you were trapped in the Cavern of Hearts--_ but she obviously had to in the bookshop when she told Karkat to tell Jake you weren’t coming.

_And, yeah, more guilt and longing to add to your conscience…_

“How do you know Jake?” you ask instead. You’re not sure you’re trying to sidestep being discovered too soon or if you’re genuinely curious. Probably best, because you’re great at multitasking like that.

Rose becomes strangely neutral. “He is Jade’s cousin, whom I knew of through an acquaintance. We have personally never met.”

A part of you frowns. That had been rather… curt. Was she hiding something? Again, you didn’t know this newest version of her, but you did remember that Rose would become like a statue every time she lied. The less she showed emotion, the more it was generally bothering her-- _honestly, you wished she had taken after Roxy’s overt expressiveness and not your personal flaws in the area--_ which seemed odd at a seemingly cut-and-dry question. You were probably overthinking it.

“Okay,” you nod. “What about this acquaintance? Was it… the one that Karkat was talking about in the bookstore with you?”

Her lips purse, a sure sign that she was gearing up to be difficult. You mentally hit yourself. What are you doing? It didn’t matter that she had her memories or that she had fully embraced you as her brother--you had no right to question her like this.

“Sorry, Rose,” you say, leaving her side to give her space and going back to the oven to check on the lasagna. It wasn’t quite done cooking, but at least that meant it was making progress… _which is more than you can say for other aspects of your life._ “Tell me if I’m prying too much.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. We should be able to say anything to one another. We’re family.”

Your heart warms at the word and, for a moment, you concentrate on that instead of letting reality shoot you down.

“Yes,” you acknowledge, all too happy to acknowledge it until the end of time. “But, like I said, things are-- different. At the very least, we’ve spent… years apart.” _Thousands of years… an amount of time so long that it mixed together into an undecipherable mess--made **you** into an undecipherable mess. _ “That changes anyone.”

_Traumatizes anyone, particularly the Strilonde variety apparently._

“But, like you said, what matters is that we’re together again.” You look at her, bringing your shades up to try and convey your feelings. “I promise you, Rose. We’ll figure it out. You’re never going to be alone again, so take your time. I can wait.”

_At the very least, even when you had to inevitably leave, Rose would have Roxy and Dave. That was what mattered. You failed them before… it **wouldn’t** happen again. _

For a moment it’s quiet following your impromptu speech. You keep expecting Rose to say something, to call you out on your bullshit or naivety, but suddenly her arms are wrapped around you, squeezing you tighter than ever.

While your mind is confused, again, from Rose hugging you, your body thankfully responds immediately to her. _Thank fuck your stupid touch sensitivity and anxiety didn’t act up around your siblings, you’d really kill yourself then._ You hold her, just soaking up the comfort of having her here, of being able to physically know she’s real and this isn’t just another delusion.

She’s different, her previous incarnation would have never initiated contact so often (though, you had a feeling this Rose was the same, just emotionally fragile from your reunion), but it was fine. Because, for all your selfishness and lies, at the end of the day all that mattered was that your family was okay. Maybe not mentally-- _definitely not emotionally--_ but, together, you really did believe what you said. Together… they would be able to figure it out.

 _Even without you_.

You hear another sniff from where Rose’s face is buried in your chest before she backs away, dabbing at her eyes with a single finger. But when she speaks, it’s not what you expect.

“You seem different, Dirk,” she says, tilting her head a slight bit before her smiles returns. “Which, as you said, is understandable given our separation… but it’s good to see the most important things never change.”

You’re not entirely sure what she means, but you can tell the conversation is done by the way she goes back to slicing tomatoes, the latter likely embarrassed from her constant shows of emotion in the last few hours.

You return to your preparation as well, trying to ignore the guilt welling up inside of you. For the second time, Rose was wrong. You _had_ changed, more than she could possibly understand.

_Naively, you hope she would never find out just how much._

o0o0o

You’re in the middle of telling Rose about your powers-- _about how you were able to see Souls and their Bonds if you concentrated and how, again, as a Prince you were able to destroy Bonds if you had no other choice; you think you see something flash in Rose’s eyes about that, but you probably imagined it--_ when she looks at the door and then back at you.

“I think you should answer that. I’ll set get the silverware for the table--or countertop, isn’t it?” She turns around to look around the small, crappy kitchen with a frown. “With the four of us, it seems silly to not have one…”

Despite not hearing anyone knock, you start towards the door. A part of you is too focused on the fact that she obviously intended to have meals with you from now on. While a part of you was ecstatic- _-like those children on the Christmas specials Jake watched with you while you were in Norway in order to distract you from the fact it was the birthday month of your siblings-_ -another part of you was admittedly confused.

Didn’t Rose have a family of her own to go back to? What were the odds that both Dave and Rose were emancipated and living on their own? Of course, you’d only been with Rose for a few hours. For all you knew, she had called her family before meeting you and told them she would be spending the night at a friend’s house. Or maybe there were other circumstances that you didn’t know about. Regardlessly, you shouldn’t expect to know every detail of Rose’s life and situation from the last seventeen years. After all, you were still trying to figure out Dave’s messed-up past.

_And failing, miserably._

As a result, you’re not prepared when you open the door and come face-to-face with Dave.

You hate yourself for it, but a part of you freezes at the sight of that familiar face and shades. It’s an ugly, wounded part. One made newly raw after the fight with Dave-- _which, again, was barely a day ago… you were getting tired of so much shit happening at once, you couldn’t process it worth a damn--_ and was still a bit hesitant even following his apologies last night.

The way Dave freezes, opens his mouth even if no sound comes out, on the doorstep tells you that he has to be thinking along the same lines. You know you shouldn’t be afraid that he’ll kick you out given the note he left for you this morning and the fact that, if he did really hate you, it’d be pretty obvious.

Still…

“I’m sorry!”

Dave’s apology shocks you from your thoughts. You stare down at him, incredulous. You open your mouth to speak but he verbally runs you over like a bulldozer.

“Shit, that was fucking awkward,” he gripes, looking anywhere but you. “Not as awkward as that note I left you, but yeah. Shit, I’m not saying that I _shouldn’t_ have left you that note--I swear I meant it and wasn’t, like, avoiding you or anything. I really had to go look for a job and I’m really not being uncool right now, so uncool that I’m on fire, and not in the fun way, not saying that being on actual fire is any fun, but it’s like a fucking volcano in the desert right now with explosions and people dying--”

“Dave,” you interrupt, relieved amusement washing over you. Everything was fine. Dave didn’t hate you. Maybe it could even go back to how it was before he was fired? “It’s fine. You already apologized yesterday. You didn’t have to, but you did so we’re cool, man.”

Your reincarnated brother fidgets, scowling lightly as if he wasn’t happy with your response. “It’s _not_ cool, Bro. I was a fucking asshole and you know it.” He suddenly falters. “But I--I don’t know how to make up for it. Normally people abscond the fuck out of the way of this Strider Train of Bullshit the second they can’t, except for Karkat. And fuck why did I bring him up this is _all his fucking fault--_ ”

“Dave!” you say again, the relieved amusement turning into worry quickly. It was obvious that this had been on Dave’s mind all day. If you didn’t calm him soon, he would work himself into another panic attack--and you remembered how the last one went. “It’s _fine_ ,” you say firmly. “I was pushing on things I really shouldn’t have. You have a right to tell me, or not tell me, whatever you want.”

Like you told Karkat, no one could force Dave to tell anyone anything. Not only because, for all the random tangents he went on verbally, he was as tight-lipped as they came, but because forcing him too far too quickly hurt him… _badly_. You’d be better off dying right here and now than add more stress to Dave’s life.

Dave hands fist in his jeans, likely trying to use that as a stabilizer. “I fucking _pushed you off the stairs--_ ”

“It was an accident,” you remind him, worried.

He ignores you, starting to tremble as he got worked up more. “--and that was only after I was accusing you of shit so shitty that I might as well threw you in a sewer before backing up a dump truck of--”

“Dave,” you say loudly, careful not to touch him even though you want to reach out and hold his shoulders. There was nothing more important than calming him down right now, and he had already proved to react violently is surprised physically. “It’s _fine_. You don’t have to feel guilty for anything. It really was my fault, but if you want to, we can just forget it ever happened. We’re square.”

_You really aren’t, but if it made him feel better, you’d say you were._

“No,” he says, now as firm as you were before. “I, there’s got to be some way I can make up for this.” He hesitates, biting his lip. “I… fuck, if you want, I can tell you… tell you what happened with Karkat, o-or… if you-- if you really want, what… happened _before--_ ”

“No,” you say instantly. But now Dave’s looking confused and hurt so you hurry to finish. You hurry to explain yourself. “I want you to tell me those things when _you_ are ready, not before. I…”

Inwardly, you sigh. You’re, a bit gun-shy, as Jake would say, from how it had gone the last time you brought up this topic, but _Dave_ had been the one to bring it up so…

“I only brought it up because I was worried about _you_ ,” you say softly, watching his eyes-- _as expressive and bright as ever behind his shades--_ widen. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to pry into your life. You just looked like you were hurting, and I… I wanted to help.”

“You… you don’t have to worry about me, dude,” he mutters, relaxing slightly but still unsure. As if he can’t believe you would just _pass up_ on hearing the truth about the situation with Karkat and his past. It was obvious that you were almost desperate to know… but what Dave didn’t know was that you’d never want to know like this. The fact that Dave thought you’d want him to _force_ himself to talk about it, as if a type a blackmail, kind of hurt.  

“Dave,” you say softly, getting closer. “Do you remember how you said I didn’t care?”

His eyes widened and he stiffens. “I, fuck, yeah, I’m sorry--”  
“Dave,” you repeat, keeping your tone as calm and soothing as you can. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but every time I said I cared about you? It wasn’t just some ploy to keep you from kicking me out. I _meant every word._ ” His jaw drops, awe and confusion mixing, and you feel a smile tug at your lips. “You owe me nothing, Dave. If you want to talk, I’d love to. Whenever you want, completely on your terms, I’ll be there for you. But only if that’s what _you_ want, okay?”

“Are you… sure?” he asks after a moment, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Had Karkat been here, he’d probably be yelling at you to find out everything… but you weren’t going to do that to Dave. He’d tell you when he was ready or not at all. No matter what, it was _Dave’s_ choice.

Still, you sigh. You really don’t understand Dave’s guilt in this-- _or maybe you would if it was anyone but you, but it was **you** ; Dave owed you nothing--_but it’s obvious that he felt strongly about ‘making it up’ to you, an idea that made you feel a little sick.

Even without… the past factors that Dave didn’t know about, he had saved you from dying in an alley, nursed you to health, fed you, and gave you a _home_. All before he even knew your name.  He owed you nothing.

But, if you were honest, there was something you wanted that you didn’t feel too bad about asking him for…

“All I want is for things to go back to normal,” you admit. He looks ready to protest-- _which you really don’t understand, it already felt like paradise when he taught you how to DJ or cracked jokes with Roxy--_ so you quickly continue. “But there is someone I want you to meet.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Um, not what I expected, but sure.” He breathes in sharply. “You don’t mean Karkat, do you? That’s, I-”

“Not Karkat,” you quickly assure him, though a part of you fills with guilt. _Sorry Karkat, but in the end it’s between you two to make it right_. “It’s… a girl.”

Dave’s eyes widen and, to your horror, he grins. “Really? Fuck, man, is this the date you had today? Shit, Roxy was grinning like a loon when she told me but I thought she said it was a guy so I thought she was just smiling because she’s Roxy--”  
“No,” you say, cutting off his words and the influx of emotions they brought. Above it all, you felt weary, if unsurprised he jumped to that conclusion. It was your fault for phrasing it that way, but the way people kept implying that you were incestually involved with your siblings. _Was. So. Fucking. Wrong._ “It’s…”

“His sister, Rose,” a voice says behind you.

You’re not surprised to turn around and see Rose. Actually, you’re kind of surprised she hadn’t come over earlier. Though the reason becomes clear quickly. While she seemed as composed as ever, you can see the way something in her eyes falters at the sight of Dave. For all her eagerness to meet Roxy and Dave, she had purposely stayed in the kitchen while you answered the door despite having to know who it was to send you over in the first place.

Honestly, you get it. While you knew that Rose loved you and Roxy dearly, Dave was her _twin_. They had literally been together the moment they were born-- _though you were a close second, being the first to hold them--_ and if the way Rose reacted to you was any indication, she probably wanted nothing more than to run up to Dave and hold him in her arms.

 _But she can’t do that, can she? Because you’re a selfish asshole whose keeping her from returning their memories_.

You push down the thought as quickly as it hits you, focusing on Rose’s words instead. She had introduced you as her brother. You’re not entirely certain if you had talked about family with Dave-- _you’d have been pretty stupid to do so--_ but he was probably under the impression that you were alone with nowhere to go. Which you _were_ , due to Cavern of Hearts and reincarnation bullshit, but what the _fuck_ were you going to say to explain having a sister without getting into the other stuff?

The subtly smug look that Rose sends you makes you scowl. Even if she had agreed to hold off on returning Roxy and Dave’s memories, it seemed that she wasn’t entirely pleased. Which, again, you couldn’t blame her, but did she _have_ to make things more difficult for you as a type of passive-aggressive revenge?

_What were you talking about? Of course she did._

Obviously, Dave is confused as hell and looks at Rose accordingly. The lack of recognition on his face hurts you deeply-- _almost makes you tell Rose that you changed your mind, start returning his memories right now--_ but you push it down to hear his words. “Nice to meet you? I, uh, didn’t know that Dirk had a sister.”

“Dirk actually has two more besides me,” says Rose sweetly. You throw her a glare but she pretends to be oblivious. _Brat._ “But, alas, we are divided by various obstacles.”

The look she gives you at the corner of her eye confirms your suspicions. _Yeah, she’s mad about having to wait._

Thankfully, Rose continues before Dave can speak again. “The four of us were separated at a very young age. I was adopted here in Houston and it was only today that Dirk and I realized we were in close proximity and resolved to catch up.”

“Wow, that sucks,” Dave says, glancing at you with a frown. “I, uh, get it. I was in foster care my entire life until, uh, yeah, so I know how much that blows.”

Rose nods, seeming to mentally file that away before smiling again. “It’s of no relevance now. The past is the past, as they say.” She glances slyly at you and you internally sigh as she looks back at Dave. “Regardless, I look forward to getting to know the person who so kindly took my brother in. I’m certain we’ll become quite close.”

You can’t hide a snort at the dumbfounded expression on Dave’s face. It might have been thousands of years, but the way Rose could utterly flip the tables on her twin was just as a good as it was back then.

_Almost as priceless as the times Dave managed to outwit Rose in return, which, while rare, were worth their weight in gold._

Dave hears your snort and glares, cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment. A part of you feels bad for being so amused-- _Dave’s week had been even crappier than yours without adding the emotional rollercoaster that was Rose’s mind games to it--_ but you can’t help laugh at his expression.

His scowl deepens-- _or, as Roxy would say, he’s pouting--_ before he looks back at Rose, awkward and unsure how to handle this sudden addition to his apartment-- _really, three weeks ago he was alone, and now he has three of you randomly hanging around._ “Uh… you’re welcome? Dirk’s been pretty cool. I like having him here.”

Your heart warms involuntarily as Rose nods, triumphant. It’s obvious that while she’s not pleased with your decision to wait, she was as happy to see Dave as she had been to see you. “Good. Now, would you help me set the table? I’m certain Roxy will be here soon and I admit I’m rather eager to try Dirk’s lasagna.”

“Dirk made lasagna?” Dave’s eyes popped and he quickly passed you to enter the apartment, obviously happy to ignore the elephant-- _more like a stampede of elephants--_ in the room for food. “Shit, that sounds awesome. You ever try any of his food before, uh… Rose, was it? Taste buds be dancing like it’s a Broadway play.”

Rose’s eyes glitter, a joy in them that you were both happy and sad to be familiar with. “While I have not the pleasure before, I’m certain that it will be comparable to the finest musical that New York can offer. Truly a performance that even Jerome Robbins couldn’t choreograph.”

You stifle a snigger at the uncertain frown Dave throws the way of the blonde girl. It’s obvious he thinks that Rose is making fun of him, but since he doesn’t know for sure, he doesn’t know how to respond. The way Rose’s expression remains pleasant and ‘oblivious’ as she sets the table only makes it better.

_So it begins._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to derail your plans Rose, but for all your sight, there’s a few things you’re missing… especially with Dirk. Particularly since I’m not sure you can see that Derse Dirk and Djinn Dirk aren’t exactly the same. 
> 
> I’ve mentioned it before, but the key difference between the two is their emotional state. There’s no doubt that Derse Dirk was messed up, but he at least had his family around to help him. Djinn Dirk… he’s alone. Been alone for thousands of years. 
> 
> A good representation would be that while Derse Dirk was a few steps from the cliff, Djinn Dirk is the shattered remains at the bottom. He’s trying to pick up the pieces but cuts himself from trying too hard or shatters the pieces even more from self-loathing. He’s already broken… so adding all these new issues is breaking him even more. 
> 
> At the end of the day, the one who has the best view of Dirk’s emotional fragility is, ironically, Jane. Who, technically, only interacted with him for like a DAY a year ago… that tells you how bad things are. GOSH DANG IT JAKE GET A MOVE ON FOR THIS POOR BOY!!! You too Strilondes!!! 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think! I love you all dearly!


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